Special Investigations Division: Farside Mission
by Loki's Son
Summary: The UFP President's daughter has been kidnapped. In addition, Tom Riker manages to send a distress signal and it is intercepted by the SID. The team deploys to solve both problems.
1. Chapter 1

19

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights and considerations belong to CBS/Paramount.**

**This is the seventh installment of the _Special Investigations Division_. I hope you enjoyu. More is on the way.**

* * *

_Two weeks ago…_

Lt. Commander Erim Zwinglet, (Starfleet) hurried to Hangar 4. The Special Projects Yards of Starfleet Intelligence boasted many similar facilities in their orbital construction zone. Built within the Utopia Planetia shipyards, the SPYards hid in plain sight. The SPYards were among the first of the massive construction yards orbiting Mars to be completed and they went into operation within hours of their Starfleet Corps of Engineers' certification.

If the arriving transports and disembarking troops meant anything, the SPYards next customer was about to be the Starfleet Special Forces. The Special Forces were an elite branch of Starfleet Special Operations Command. The Special Forces had utilised the SPYards in the past to equip for various covert missions. This time, however, there were no orders releasing any assets over to the Special Forces' control, thus forming the basis for Commander Zwinglet's growing headache.

Leading the Special Forces detachment was Admiral Gideon Weisz. Weisz was a legendary figure amongst those occupying the rarefied world of clandestine operations. Weisz had first come to prominence as a Special Operations Commander during the Border Wars. He'd earned a Captaincy following the Cardassian War. The Dominion War brought Weisz his elevation to Rear Admiral.

Given Weisz's predilection for preserving military traditions from past eras, the Admiral preferred to be addressed as 'Commodore'. This trait, among others, was gracefully accepted by those under his command in exchange for the characteristic that endeared him to them: he never sent them into harm's way without leading them there himself. At just over fifty years of age, Weisz's physique was a testament towards the Special Forces' physical fitness regime. His black hair was just beginning to grey and his piercing brown eyes were keenly intelligent.

As Zwinglet arrived on the hangar floor, Weisz was already out of his shuttle and awaiting the supervising officer's arrival. Zwinglet had heard countless tales whispered about Weisz, but he'd never expected the Commodore to radiate such a raw intensity. Zwinglet found Weisz intimidating just standing there in his Starfleet uniform with his black Special Forces beret affixed atop his head, hands clasped behind his back. Without a word being spoken, Zwinglet recognised and acknowledged the fact that the Commodore could easily dispose of him with or without a weapon.

"I'm glad you could join us, Commander." Weisz said pleasantly, extending his hand.

"It's and honour and a privilege, sir." Zwinglet gushed, pumping Weisz's proffered hand.

Weisz smiled, "Now, don't go trying to butter the old man up." After a moment's pause, Weisz's smile faded and he began to stroll about the hangar, visually inspecting the progress of his troops while speaking with Zwinglet, "I need a ship, Commander. My troops and I are once again headed into the knife's edge. We'd stand a better chance of surviving if we were to be equipped with a craft loaded with your customary 'refinements'."

Zwinglet's answering smile to the compliment was tentative, "Unfortunately, we have no available ships at this time."

"Your commander, Admiral T'Jol, recommended a _Miranda_-class cruiser named the _Sarah __McLachlan_. Was she mistaken? Is the ship still undergoing work?" Weisz seemed quite surprised.

"No, Commodore." Zwinglet confessed, "You're well informed. The _McLachlan_ is ready to deploy. All she awaits is her crew."

"It was also my understanding that the crew would not be assembled for several more weeks." Weisz further revealed and retrieved a padd from his pocket and held it out towards Zwinglet, "Here a copy of my authorisation to assume temporary command of the _McLachlan_ and to hold her within my custody during the duration of my mission. You'll find a copy of these orders in Admiral T'Jol's files."

"I wouldn't know." Zwinglet said as he reviewed the orders he'd been handed, "She didn't confide in me in regards to this matter."

"Not surprising." Weisz shrugged, "I've already stretched the limits of discretion in telling what you what I have."

"You haven't told me anything, sir." Zwinglet complained, "And I can't help noticing that these orders were written by you. Typically, our deployment orders originate with the Director of Starfleet Intelligence and are countersigned by the Chief of Starfleet Operations."

Weisz gave him a winning smile, "The prerogative of command. It opens many doors."

"I'm afraid it won't this time, sir." Zwinglet not until I can verify these orders with Starfleet Command."

"You do what you have to do, son." Weisz replied with a sad expression.

When the strike came, Zwinglet never saw it coming. The hypo merely pressed up against his neck and emptied its contents with a hiss. Zwinglet's vision blurred, then all went dark. Weisz caught his falling body as he slumped. A nearby lieutenant hurried over to the Commodore and relieved him of his burden.

"Hold on to him for now." Weisz instructed, "We'll drop him off in his office when we go to retrieve the operations codes and specifications for the _McLachlan_."

"What about the other prisoner, sir?" the lieutenant looked worried.

Weisz supposed he'd be worried too if he was a junior officer being charged with the security and safety of such an important charge, "Bring the President's daughter out and prepare to transfer her to the _McLachlan_."

Weisz waited while the lieutenant carried out his charge. As he stood there, he was joined by his Executive Officer, Commander Theriv'shran. Weisz studied the two platoons of Special Forces troops mustering and a grim smile played across his lips. Weisz glanced over towards his Andorian XO and saw a glimmer of emotion.

"Once more into the fray, eh Shran?"

Shran bared his teeth in a grimace that was the Andorian equivalent of a smile, "Once more to victory, Commodore."

"Do you really think so?" Weisz looked unconvinced, "Or do you think our plan will merely harden the President's resolve?"

"Holding his daughter will certainly garner his attention." Shran qualified, "What he does afterwards is anyone's guess."

"Don't you find it remotely sinister that we found allies ostensibly within our own ranks so swiftly after choosing our strategy?"

Shran's attenna twitched at that, "Whomever these 'Section 31' agents truly represent their stated mission of protecting the Federation by any means possible. Which I suppose means that by supporting our mission they consider this President an active threat to Federation security."

"And implies that we do as well." Weisz shook his head, "I swore an oath to obey my Commander-in-Chief and he in turn is sworn to uphold the sitting President. So where does that leave our actions here? Treason?"

"You knew that label would be applied to us. We all did. We've accepted that part and the fact that we will not be able to return to the Federation within the near future if ever. These are choices each man in your command struggled with and accepted before embarking on this mission. I suggest you put you doubts aside. The hardest part of our task is behind us."

Weisz sighed, "You're right of course. Call it angst brought on by age. I've seen too many missions derailed by the slightest complication. What we're doing is dependent upon too many variables and it could all start coming down around our ears without warning."

"I have faith in you, sir." Shran assured him, "We all do. If things hit the fan, then you'll find us a way out just like you always have."

Weisz's spirits were bolstered. He would not fail his troops. The assorted men, women, and polysexuals, officers and enlisted, under his command deserved his best and that's what he would provide. He would redeem their sacrifices and bring this plan to fruition.

Weisz's record of success, while not spotless, still shown as one of the best for his profession. He'd personally conceived and implemented this operation. He'd hand selected and recruited the soldiers under him. Each one had demonstrated unswerving loyalty in the past. Now Weisz was asking more of them than he ever had and they'd risen to the challenge.

He knew his introspection was a result of age and regrets. The devastating losses of the recent war had hit the Special Forces units especially hard. These losses had gutted Weisz, who strongly felt responsible for every life under his command. His responsibility to his fallen troops extended to preserving their honourable memory and that is what had brought him to this present crucible.

"Get the men ready to transfer to the _McLachlan_." Weisz ordered, "I'll need a detachment with me to return the good Commander to his office."

"What about his counter signature for your orders?" Shran inquired.

"Already taken care of." Weisz assured him, "Our mysterious allies provided me with Commander Zwinglet's authorisation code before we embarked on our little adventure."

"How considerate of them." Shran remarked dryly.

"Yes, wasn't it though? Makes you wonder what else they have access to."

Shran made a hissing sound as he sucked air in between his teeth, "At this point, I prefer not to know."

Weisz nodded, "Probably for the best." He exhaled heavily and placed his fists on his hips, "All right. Let's get to it."

* * *

_Three days ago..._

Naked, Tom Riker ran down the corridor, checking back over his shoulder occasionally. He waited for the cry of alarms but none had erupted to life yet. Although he was stiff and weakened from countless weeks of confinement, he pressed on as fast as his legs could carry him. Within moments, his goal was within sight.

The corridor opened up into a circular space. The outer ring of this circle was modular rooms. Most were laboratories, a fact the man had become all too familiar with during his stay here. One of the labs contained a subspace communication array. It was this room that the bedraggled figure stumbled toward.

Once ensconced within the protective walls of the lab, Riker sealed the door. It would prove a stopgap measure at best when his captors discovered his unconscious minder and traced his activities to this location. With any luck, he'd have time to inflict some major damage to the bastards' operations before he was recaptured. The potential side benefit of his plan was his own rescue from this hell.

Riker activated the comm panel. Unaware of his present location, he opted for an omnidirectional signal. Transmitting in the clear, Riker was enhancing his chances of a friendly party intercepting this message and passing it on to the Special Investigations Division of Starfleet Intelligence. As a SID agent missing in action, he felt his message best be personally addressed to the SID's Director, Admiral Amanda Drake.

He was halfway through his message when the alarms sounded. Riker swore and hurriedly tried to finish before the comm terminal was cut off from the primary communications array. He'd almost finished when the lights and indicators on his board went dead. Riker fumed. He'd been ready to reveal the most crucial aspect of the goings on at this facility when they'd severed his connection with the galaxy beyond.

Next came a pounding at the door. This was followed by several minutes of silence as the pursuing captors bypassed the door's locking mechanism. It rolled aside and two Starfleet Special Forces officers rushed in wielding stun batons. Stun batons were modelled after the traditional police baton but were equipped with a low intensity particle beam emitter on one end. They'd been designed for riot control for the M.A.C.O. forces of Earth's Starfleet. They'd since been adopted by most planetary constabularies since the absorption of Starfleet into the Federation. Starfleet Security forces had phased the devices out of their inventory since they were only called into crowd control situations that had progressed beyond the local authority's ability to manage.

Riker reared up to his full imposing height and readied himself for the two encroaching troopers. The one to his left feinted with a thrust at his ribs. It was a move designed to push Riker into the reach of the trooper on the right. Riker did the unexpected instead and moved in towards the attacking trooper. Riker locked a hand on the baton wielding wrist and shoved the baton aside.

Riker smashed his fist into the man's nose and he staggered backwards, releasing the baton. Riker quickly scooped up the abandoned baton and touched the wounded Special Forces soldier with it. The man groaned and slumped to the floor. Riker wheeled and prepared to deal with the other trooper.

She cast an evaluating eye over Riker's naked form. Her smile was cold and predatory. Riker immediately knew that she'd be trouble. She looked fast and powerfully built.

Riker thrust forward, wielding the baton like a sabre. The Special Forces trooper ducked under his reach and stepped forward to end up behind him. Once behind Riker, she turned the baton in her hand so that she held the emitter end pointed towards her elbow. She whirled and made a strike at his kidneys.

Riker quickly moved ahead and turned, sweeping the area with his baton. The trooper righted her grip on the baton and held it in a two handed grip like a short sword. Riker kept a single-handed grip and handled the baton as he would a club. He moved in quickly and brought a blow to bear on her shoulder.

She blocked the blow and forced him back. Riker could hear the footfall of approaching reinforcements. He charged forward, again thrusting with the baton. She freed one hand from her own baton and stepped aside. Using her free hand, she caught Riker's outstretched wrist and pulled him forward. As she did so, she rammed her knee into his solar plexus. She followed this up with an elbow strike to the kidneys.

Riker sank to his knees and tried to catch his breath. He looked up at his opponent to see her sadly shaking her head. She applied the stun baton to his shoulder and he stiffened and the world went dark. She waited for her comrades before attempting to move either Riker or her fellow fallen Special Forces trooper.

* * *

Present…

"And you can go to hell!" Amanda Drake snapped at Edward Jellico. The two, along with Alynna Nechayev, Bill Ross and Jaroess Marrine were assembled to conduct a meeting of the ultra top secret Council of Five. The Council had been charged with apprehending the renegade Admiral Weisz and facilitating the safe return of the Federation President's daughter. They'd searched the Alpha Quadrant twice over but with no success. It had now been conjectured that Weisz had sought refuge outside of the Federation.

Drake and Nechayev put forth the position that the search now required operatives with the credentials to operate outside the Federation. They had offered up the services of the SID as a whole and of one agent in particular. At the mention of that agent's name Jellico had become bellicose, refusing to authorise any action that included Brin Macen's participation. The antagonism between Macen and Jellico dated back to before Jellico's promotion to the Admiralty.

"Macen is not to be involved." Jellico growled, "That's final."

"Not so fast." Drake snapped back, "There are five members of this committee, remember?"

"A majority of whom are uncomfortable with your departments heavy reliance upon irregular forces."

"Starfleet Intelligence has utilised civilian irregulars and contract forces for centuries." Drake pointed out.

"But in a limited capacity and numbers." Jellico rejoined, "A full third of your investigative forces are civilian irregulars, not Starfleet officers."

"A full ninety percent of those civilians are former Starfleet officers, with all the necessary clearances and training." Drake contended, "The rest are former police officers that have been vetted by Starfleet Security and Intelligence both."

"That isn't always the case." Jellico countered, "Take your Commander Macen for instance. He has a former Maquis terrorist and a mercenary formerly in the employ of the Orion Syndicate on staff. This does not include the latest addition to his team: an Iotian starship captain. Who knows what form of espionage she is engaged in?"

"That particular starship captain convinced the Iotian Admiralty of the necessity of aiding Commander Macen's team during the mission to Magna Roma." Drake fumed, "When she turned up, having been stripped of her command, for her actions in bringing us aid, Macen felt compelled to grant her place within his team."

"The Magna Roma mission is just the perfect example of why we shouldn't involve Brin Macen. He was assigned to rescue Federation hostages, not launch a war between Iotia and Magna Roma."

"He accomplished the mission and neutralised a threat." Drake rejoined defiantly.

"He exceeded his authority." Jellico pronounced, "A trait of his, I should think."

"Fine." Drake threw her hands up in surrender, "How about this, we assign Macen to track down the source of Tom Riker's signal. He can make a preliminary assessment upon arrival, if it appears that Commodore Weisz and his forces are there, then Macen will get on the horn and request back-up. Would that satisfy you?"

"He won't engage in an ill advised rescue effort?"

"Only if Weisz and the President's daughter are elsewhere." Drake clarified, "Otherwise you can't expect Macen to simply leave his man in captivity."

"Negotiations first and foremost." Jellico demanded, "I don't want any unnecessary military operations."

"Agreed."

"Well, then," Jellico smiled, "let's put it to a vote."

The vote carried and Drake received her authorisation. Jellico, however, wasn't finished, "The matter of your irregulars isn't over, Amanda. We'll revisit the topic soon."

"What are you suggesting?" Drake asked coolly.

"That it may be better to have a unified force, a homogenised force to better serve Starfleet's needs."

Inwardly, Drake seethed. Outwardly, she shrugged and smiled coldly, "We'll have to take that up on a later date indeed."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Drake and Admiral Nechayev were seated in Drake's office. They'd utilised the primary transporter station within Starfleet Headquarters to beam over to the SID's ultra modern headquarters located in Reading, adjacent to the venerable university of the same name. The university's famed International Relations course of yesteryear had evolved over the centuries to a formidable Interstellar Relations degree. More than a few graduates had found their way to the Starfleet Intelligence's Analysis Centre.

Drake's assistant, Lieutenant Ambril Delori, stood near the Admiral's desk awaiting her morning orders. Ambril was a waif-like brunette with deep set, brown eyes. Those same eyes were just beginning to crinkle with laugh lines. Her lips were generous and her nose bore the distinctive ridges common to Bajorans. As things presently stood, Ambril's lips were pursed and her hands were clasped in front of her.

"I take the meeting went badly." she ventured.

Nechayev snorted and Drake growled deep in her throat, "You know I can't discuss any details of the meeting, Ambril, but I will say this. Edward Jellico is an ass."

Ambril shifted her feet uncomfortably, "Is that really news?"

Drake sighed, "I guess not. God, I could do with a drink."

"Would you settle for tea or coffee?" Ambril piped up.

"Coffee for me, thanks. Alynna?"

"Tea please."

Ambril got them their drinks and resumed her stance before the desk, "Are you ready for your daily briefs?"

Drake rubbed her temples, "I'll get to those in a minute. I presume you did your usual astute prioritisation."

Ambril curtsied, "But of course. The Prophets grant wisdom to those in need."

"Why, Ambril. I never figured you for the religious type."

"Never turn down help where you can find it."

Drake chuckled, "First things first, get me transport to _Deep Space 9_."

Ambril gave her a questioning look and Drake relented, "It's the last know location of Brin Macen. I have to speak with him and I can't risk a subspace message getting intercepted and decoded."

"I don't suppose I can ask why or what." Ambril said in a helpless tone.

"Of course not." Drake gave her a humourless smile, "Now if you'd excuse us, the Admiral and I need to discuss a few matters."

Ambril nodded her acknowledgement, "Yes, ma'am."

The aide excused herself and Nechayev smiled warmly, "She's quite the firecracker. It goads her though, to be left out of the loop."

"God knows we could use another hundred like her." Drake agreed, "If we did, maybe the President's daughter would be safe at home. As far as Ambril's frustrations, she has nearly unlimited access to the Federation's greatest secrets. She just hates to be reminded that even she has limits."

"You respect her then?"

"I've asked the impossible of her a dozen times over and she's never failed me." Drake took a sip of her coffee, "And she's proven her loyalty beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Well, she does have the mastoid monitoring device. It would be rather foolish of her to divulge any secrets." Nechayev reminded her, "Starfleet Security would be blowing her door down within moments."

"Remember when devices like that weren't considered necessary?" Drake said wistfully.

Nechayev gave her a pitying look, "Look Amanda, I don't know where this bout of melancholy is stemming from, but you know as well as I do that we needed to develop a system that would guarantee the sanctity of Starfleet Intelligence. Changelings can't host either a mastoid or cortical implant so we began implanting them in the most vital members of the staff. Although the war is over there was no reason to discontinue the use of an appropriate security measure."

"Except for the fact that we're denying those people any form of privacy. For God's sake Alynna, we record every single utterance of an implantee." Drake was beginning to get passionate about her topic.

"Glad to see some of your usual fire." Nechayev gave Drake a calculating smile, "You can't let Eddie get to you like this."

"I know." Drake returned then raised her hands in surrender, "I _know_. But who does he think he is, dictating policy to me? The Council is largely an oversight committee. I answer to you and then the Commander-in-Chief. That's the chain of command."

"You are forgetting that the Council does have the authority to launch directives, implement procedures and demand internal reviews. We rarely exercise these functions but we do retain the powers." Nechayev gave a gentle reminder, "Edward has made it a personal vendetta to rid the SID of its irregular forces. His contention is that they are too unpredictable and reckless. Part of this argument stems from Brin Macen himself. Macen became an irregular after the shooting incident resulting in the destruction of a starship, a starship that had surrendered. Added to the gravity of this charge was the fact that Macen fired counter to a direct order from the commander on the scene."

"We made a compromise then that allowed Macen to remain within the framework of the SID. He would accept demotion and retire to the active reserve list and in return he would form a security and expeditionary firm and would contract with us for employment. We ceded a ship over to him and his team, those members serving in Starfleet, all transferred to the reserves as well."

"I do happen to know all of this, Alynna." Drake was slightly impatient, "What's your point?"

"Macen is the most illustrious of your agents." Nechayev explained, "He gets the toughest assignments and produces the most dramatic results. He was the first of the irregulars and they look to him for their example. It is this power that Eddie fears."

"Jellico?" Drake wondered, "Afraid? Bull-headed, yes, but afraid?"

"Edward Jellico fears only one thing: chaos. He sees Macen as an agent of chaos." Nechayev gave a half shrug, "This is easily understood since Macen sees himself the same way. The difference is that Macen is a student of Chaos Theory. He believes that enough random disorder eventually forms patterns of coherence."

"How do you know this?" Drake asked in a hushed voice.

"You forget, I've known him for decades, since I was a very junior officer and before you classified his psyche evaluation. He's always played fast and loose with regulations and that trait earned him the ire of one Edward Jellico. His tendency to be correct was another irritant especially since Jellico and Macen endorsed opposing strategies for handling the Border Wars with the Cardassians."

"So my department and my operatives are just the latest casualties in an old grudge match." Drake said with disgust.

"As far as your department goes, Eddie truly does believe Starfleet would be best served if your agent pool were kept in-house. If the elimination of the irregular forces were to inconvenience Macen, that would just be an enjoyable bonus."

"Lovely." Drake grumped.

So," Nechayev slapped her knees, "what's next?"

"Well, as soon as Ambril secures a ride, she and I will be departing for _DS9_."

"Do you think Macen will be there?"

Drake shrugged, "He's been using it as his base of operations for this latest investigation. If he's not there, I'm certain Lieutenant Ro will know how to contact him."

"Yes." Nechayev mused, "An interesting bond of loyalty that those two share."

"It's all I have to go on." Drake sighed, "He's an independent. He reports in when he wants to."

"Another of Eddie's arguments to homogenise the force." Nechayev remarked with a wry smile.

Drake levelled a glare in reply and Nechayev raised a hand, "Sorry. Unfair of me. How about I offer you the use of my flagship in return?"

"The _Sovereign_?"

"Why not? I've a flag captain who is constantly wailing about his boredom with patrolling Sector 001. This will solve your problem and get both of you out of my hair."

"Deal" Drake tapped her comm badge and contacted Ambril, "Lieutenant? Stop what you're doing. The Admiral is going to arrange transportation for us."

"Thank the Prophets."

Nechayev smiled and Drake nearly laughed, "Go home and pack a bag, Ambril. I'll need you along on this one."

"Got it." Ambril replied with enthusiasm, "I suppose we'll need kits of the usual paraphernalia?"

"Good thinking. Gather everything up and I'll meet you back here in two hours."

"Aye, ma'am." the comm circuit went dead.

"With that all said and done, I need to get back to HQ and make arrangements."

"Thanks Alynna." Drake rose to see her out, "For the ship, the talk, for everything."

"You've earned it." Nechayev replied, "I gave you the task of creating and running a department that no one outside of Starfleet Intelligence believed in. Well, you've turned that goal into a reality and this division into a force to be reckoned with. You deserve a break or two after all the hard work and Jellico breathing down your neck."

Drake choked up for a moment then recovered herself, "All I can say is thank you."

"And all I can say is keep up the exemplary work and if ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask." With that said, Nechayev exited the office and headed for the transporter room.

Drake returned to her desk and cradled her mug in her hands. She slowly sipped the rapidly cooling beverage and pondered the events of the last hour. Drake was the youngest admiral in decades. She'd earned her captaincy and command of a Starfleet Intelligence ship while in her thirties. Now, a decade later, she was an admiral.

She'd been a damned fine intelligence officer but an admiral was a political animal. All her analyses of various regimes hadn't prepared for the trenches of Starfleet Command like she'd thought it had. Jellico, who'd slowly risen through the ranks and spent two decades in the captain's chair, held a distinct advantage in the games of backdoor politics.

The SID was her baby, virtually her creation. She'd founded this organisation on Brin Macen's shoulders and expanded it based upon his successes. She wasn't certain where it would go without him. Someday it would have to, but seeing as how Macen was an El-Aurian and expected to live a minimum of three hundred more years. All that was required for the SID to become a permanently viable entity was a wealth of experience and training to be passed down.

"So let's make certain we have a legacy to pass on." Drake toasted the empty walls of her office and took a celebratory sip of her cold coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

36

"Welcome to _Empok Nor_." "Squibs" Bellantrix said. He held a phaser in his right hand, which he kept squarely aimed at Macen. The Iotian gunrunner and his cronies had Macen and his escorts surrounded. There were six smugglers to Macen's four.

Macen had his long time comrade in arms and current romantic partner, T'Kir, standing beside him. The Vulcan, in her seventies and relatively young for a member of her race, had served with Macen during her time in the Maquis. Then, as now, she served as his cybernetics systems specialist. A hacker by any other name was still a hacker, T'Kir just earned kudos for being arguably the best hacker in known space.

T'Kir defied most Vulcan stereotypes. Her body was best type described as voluptuous rather than the lean, ascetic look favoured by Vulcans. She possessed crystal blue eyes that pierced your soul. She had full, bee-stung lips, high cheekbones, and a slightly upturned nose. Her skin held a pale olive complexion that was the envy of most humans. Her raven hair reached her collarbones. It's permanently windblown appearance granted her an edgy appearance.

Another deviation was T'Kir's garb. She was dressed primarily in leathers. She'd donned her leather pants and collerless duster that she'd acquired from the Romulan Tal Shiar. Her boots, like her leathers, were black and reached mid-calf. Her top was a pine green zip front sweater with a hoodie.

The most prominent stereotype that she broke was her indulgence in emotional expression. T'Kir had been born and raised on Shial, a colony world in what would later become the Demilitarised Zone between the Cardassian Union and the United Federation of Planets. The colony had been populated by Vulcan dissidents and Romulan defectors. T'Kir's own stepfather had been a Romulan. She'd been raised to respect both cultures while still applying logical criticism to both. While she'd been off planet for schooling, the Cardassians had slaughtered the inhabitants of Shial.

T'Kir had sought the newly established Maquis and embraced their philosophy of armed resistance against the Cardassians. It was at this time that her last violation of Vulcan norms developed. Her telepathic abilities began to increase and fluctuate wildly. They soon grew out of T'Kir's ability to control and she was constantly reading the thoughts of those around her. This continual onslaught caused her to act erratically.

It was soon discovered that Macen was immune to her telepathy and in turn became the one person that could manage her. She was transferred to his command and he became a lifeline for her. After the fall of the Maquis, T'Kir was taken to the Andes Psychiatric Institute where she whiled away the war years. Macen liberated her from the Institute and offered her a place on his newly assembled crew. T'Kir accepted.

Macen introduced T'Kir to the results of his search of ancient Vulcan texts offering an herbal solution that would tame her telepathic powers. T'Kir began taking the remedy and her behaviour rapidly improved. Her telepathy was still far above that of a normal Vulcan but it was now within her ability to regulate. Despite a reckless and rebellious nature, T'Kir had shaped up to be one of the most versatile and valuable members of the SID team.

Standing behind T'Kir was the former Angosian super-soldier. Unlike Macen and T'Kir, who carried no visible weapons, Rab Daggit was heavily armed. In his hands, he held a surplus Bajoran Militia issue phaser rifle. This he kept aimed at the closest smuggler. Daggit wore a Bajoran phaser pistol on his hip. In the pouches of his utility belt were knives and photon grenades.

Daggit wore a black leather "speedster" jacket and grey/black mottled camouflage fatigues. He wore black combat boots of Angosian origin. Military surplus was readily available on Daggit's homeworld and he'd stocked up on the familiar footwear.

Scarred by years of war, Daggit's rugged features were heavily lined and creased. His sandy brown hair was slowly going grey. Daggit's ever vigilant eyes were haunted by what they'd witnessed during his native Tarsus Wars and fighting for the Federation in the Dominion War. Daggit's most impressive feature was his titanic physique. His countless hours in the gym had yielded a body of Olympic proportions.

The psychological conditioning and physical enhancements the Angosian scientists had provided transformed Daggit into the ultimate soldier. The drawback of this work was that the alterations had thus far proven to be permanent. Daggit's reaction to a violent confrontation was as predetermined as it was invariably lethal. The greatest tragedy of this was that no one had ever developed a method to aid the super-soldiers in dealing with the guilt that followed their predetermined actions. Daggit himself was prone to deep, abiding depressions.

Daggit had come to the SID by way of the Dominion War. Macen had been assigned as the intelligence officer that provided tactical analysis to the Angosian Commando Corps. Macen had impressed the Angosians with his willingness to personally gather data in the field. Daggit had been assigned to a squad charged with keeping Macen alive. Macen's adventures behind the lines often made that proposition seem unlikely.

When the war ended, Daggit received a transfer to the _Enterprise-E_. While serving aboard the "Big E" as a Tactical Officer, Daggit learned that Macen had joined a fledgling branch of Starfleet and was assembling a special action team. Daggit immediately put in for a transfer and was welcomed to the team by Macen. Finding life under Macen's command to be more intriguing that your average shipboard duties, Daggit requested to be placed on the reserve list when Macen was forced to retire and form an independent security and investigation firm.

Poised and ready for action beside Daggit was Radil Jenrya. Radil cut an imposing figure handling her portable phaser cannon. The cannon was strapped to Radil by two belts. The first fit around her waist and provided an elevation pivot point. The second strap fit across her chest like a bandoleer. On her back she wore a large cell.

Radil wore pants identical to Daggit's and wore a black hooded sweater similar to T'Kir's. Her boots were Bajoran Militia surplus. Added to this ensemble was a charcoal grey wool cap.

Radil's fierce visage added to her ruthless appearance. Her seething antagonism was well earned. These smugglers worked for the Orion Syndicate and Radil was a disgruntled ex-employee. She would still be working for the Syndicate if Daggit hadn't interfered.

During the course of an investigation, Daggit infiltrated a branch of the Orion Syndicate headed by an Orion pirate named Kharlack. Radil served in Kharlack's employ and was assigned as Daggit's mentor. She'd stayed close to him and was unexpectantly swept up with him in the transport beam that extracted him from the planet. Her supposed desertion placed Radil under a death sentence with the Syndicate.

In an effort to stave of her death at the hands of bounty hunters, Macen offered Radil two choices: join the team and rely upon its ranks for mutual protection and also the opportunity to undergo cosmetic surgery. Radil accepted both offers and underwent surgery to remove the nasal bone ridges that marked her as a Bajoran. The surgery had profound effect on this child of the Resistance. She'd become a staunch Bajoran nationalist and patriot, sometimes much to the annoyance of her teammates.

Despite her distinctive features, she had yet to be recognised by the smugglers. In some ways she resembled T'Kir. Radil possessed thick auburn hair that cascaded down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a pale green and frequently flashed with unrestrained passions. She also possessed oversized lips but that's where the resemblance ended. Radil's cheeks were smoother and her nose was smaller. Their skin tones separated them as well. Radil was porcelain fair against T'Kir's olive tan. Radil's husky contralto also contrasted against T'Kir's smooth soprano.

Situated slightly ahead of the others, with his hands clasped behind his back, stood Brin Macen. He was smiling in a slightly ironic fashion, as if he wasn't taking his present situation too seriously. This seemed to annoy Squibs, who had counted outnumbering his prospective partners and holding them at gunpoint to disarm them. Macen's "ho-hum" attitude stemmed from the fact that Squibs' actions were, and had been, perfectly predictable.

Macen had survived for over four hundred years by relying on his wits. When the Borg came to El-Auria and her colonies, Macen had been among those that rallied the survivors to seek out a new home amongst the stars. The experience changed his perspective on a great many things. He eschewed the predominant El-Aurian philosophy of total pacifism and began to seek alternative choices.

When confronted with the loss of the rapturous joys of the Nexus, Macen found a measure of comfort in witnessing the compassion and professionalism of his Starfleet "rescuers". After spending a year at a refugee centre, Macen applied to Starfleet Academy. He qualified for an accelerated track and graduated the Academy in two years with the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade.

Macen went aboard the _Wellington_ as the staff A & A (Archaeology and Anthropology) officer. Macen drew the notice of his superiors and Starfleet Intelligence with his comprehensive, concise, and cohesive analyses of the beings he encountered. During Macen's third year aboard the _Wellington_, he was offered the opportunity to transfer to Starfleet Intelligence. Despite his CO's misgivings about releasing the recently promoted Lieutenant, Macen was transferred to Intelligence's auspices and history was about to be made.

At first, Macen was utilised as a general researcher. He'd receive an assignment to study a particular people or regime and produce an analysis of their viability as a threat to the Federation. It was a job that Macen excelled at. It at this post that he advanced from Lieutenant to Lt. Commander. It was also during this period that the Cardassians were encountered. First contact went horribly awry and Intelligence was tapped to discover why.

Macen sped off to the border and his first field assignment. He succeeded in making contact with a Cardassian mining camp. There he discovered a military junta known as the High Command ruled the Cardassians. The High Command was dedicated to an aggressive expansionist policy in order to replenish the ever dwindling resources on their over-exploited homeworld. The Cardassians had reached the edges of the Federation and they were going to attempt to seize the colonies for themselves.

Starfleet Command heralded Macen's report. Starships were dispatched to the border to increase patrols of the disputed region. All too swiftly the situation disintegrated into an undeclared war. In an effort to find an alternative to the violence, Macen was once again dispatched to the "front". He was given the rank of full commander to assist him in clearing away obstacles in the path of his investigation.

Macen's interrogations of Cardassian prisoners were unorthodox by Starfleet's standards and occasionally even bordered on the criminal. The Cardassians responded and he yielded results. Starfleet was willing to overlook his eccentricities in exchange for the information he pumped from the POWs. It was the beginning of a series of disputes between Macen and Starfleet regulations.

From the beginning, Macen advocated sterner responses than Command was willing to authorise. Matters came to a head when Macen confronted then-Captain Jellico, the local theatre commander, in a heated exchange and urged to adopt a "fire first" policy aimed at any Cardassian ship found to be across the border. Jellico refused and Macen went over his head. Macen's initiative was ultimately rejected but the seeds of Jellico and Macen's feud were sown.

Macen spent the duration of the Border Wars at the front. When the treaty ending the dispute ceded Federation colonies to Cardassian control, Macen was sent to the newly established Demilitarised Zone to assess the Federation colonists' reactions and moods. Macen had spent ten years fighting alongside these people and he had a great empathy for them. In truth, their plight held overtones of the Borg's assimilation of his world. The Cardassians were determined to make life so miserable for the Federation settlers that they'd leave or succumb and accept Cardassian domination of their lives and worlds.

When the Maquis took up arms under the banner of Cal Hudson, Macen secretly cheered. The Maquis soon made their presence felt throughout the sector and Macen received new orders: infiltrate the Maquis. Macen decided to enlist by approaching a Maquis leader he already knew. Ro Laren had been shocked to see him, and more than a little suspicious.

Macen revealed to her the nature of his orders. He also presented a viable alternative: Macen would come to work for Ro as her intelligence officer while still transmitting reports to Starfleet. These reports would be available for her censure and would be designed to promote the positive aspects of the Maquis' struggle. After careful consideration, and deliberation by her cell's membership, she agreed.

The only complication to Macen's admission was his partner in the infiltration mission, Lisea Danan. It took Macen's personal assurance of Danan's conduct and motives to gain her admission to the cell. The very first thing Macen set about doing was assembling an intelligence team. Danan was the first obvious recruit. Next, T'Kir was foisted off on Macen when Ro could no longer control her.

Together, they systematically harassed, misdirected and foiled the Cardassians so effectively that their group became the premier intelligence arm of the entire Maquis Rebellion. That all ended when Cardassia became a member of the Dominion and the Jem'Hadar purged the DMZ and the Badlands. Macen, his crew, Ro and her crew were barely able to escape.

Ro and Macen separated. Ro fled deeper into the DMZ and engaged in a guerrilla war against the Dominion. Macen, in turn, parlayed all his influence with Starfleet to negotiate an amicable surrender. His crew was guaranteed minimum sentences on a rehabilitation colony. T'Kir was taken for medical treatment, since she had tried to kill Macen during their flight from the Jem'Hadar. Macen and Danan were returned to active duty.

For Macen, this meant a return to the DMZ and the Badlands as the chief intelligence officer of an elite commando corps composed of Angosian soldiers. Macen's intimate knowledge of those regions proved invaluable. He spent the bulk of the two years of the war behind enemy lines. His intelligence coups literally shaped the face of major offensives as well as the surgical strikes of the commandos.

When the war ended, Macen was recalled to Starfleet Command. Upon his arrival in Admiral Nechayev's office, he learned he was to command a prototype ship and a specialised crew on a mission to investigate the possible existence of a gulag for political dissidents from across the Federation. Along with this command came a promotion to Captain. The mission reunited him with both Lisea Danan and T'Kir. It also served as the final hurrah for the romance between Danan and Macen.

The mission proved a success and Starfleet committed to forming a permanent department specialising in highly sensitive investigations. Macen was tapped to form the first investigative team for the newly founded Special Investigations Division. He assembled a group of highly skilled professionals. Some were known from previous days either in the Maquis or during the war. Others were recent introductions, having demonstrated their extraordinary talents over the course of the Gulag mission. He lost several crewmen from the Gulag mission, Lisea Danan being the most notable.

Macen's first assignment was to investigate rumours of Starfleet vessels operating as pirates near the Cardassian/Andergani border. The rumours proved to be accurate. Macen lost his ship during their first encounter. The pirates also captured his chief engineer. Macen awaited rescue and plotted retaliation.

The team split up to pursue several avenues of investigation simultaneously. Macen lost a teammate while on Cardassia Prime but was given invaluable assistance by Elim Garak. Daggit infiltrated the Orion Syndicate and accidentally "recruited" Radil Jenrya. T'Kir and Kort travelled to _DS9_ then set off towards Andergani space in order to track down the rogue officers. Dracas, Macen's Chief Engineer, escaped and rescued two other captives at the same time. Meanwhile, Grace was confronting her former Section 31 handler.

T'Kir and Kort managed to lead an uprising among the pirate's captives. Led by a subliminal link with T'Kir, Macen guided a small taskforce of starships to the pirate's colony world. The engagement between pirate and Starfleet was short and decisive. Ultimately it ended in a disaster that ended Macen's active service career. The pirate commander had surrendered but Macen refused to offer any quarter. The pirate's entire crew perished despite a direct order to the contrary. Macen was immediately arrested and placed in the brig for the return trip to Earth.

Macen's court-martial was convened in secret, as pertained in the Official Secrets Acts and Regulations adopted by the Federation Council and Starfleet Command in 2183 (old Earth reckoning) and last revised in 2374. The JAG prosecutor, a Vulcan, levelled his charges precisely and logically. Macen rebutted with the facts as he'd seen them. The pirate had hurt and killed members of his team and crew. He'd enslaved a sizeable population to build his colony and he was unrepentant regarding his actions. Macen saw no point in wasting resources on a penal colony while he could simply remove the problem.

In light of his impressive record, Macen was given a slap on the wrist. He was demoted back to Commander and retired to the active reserves. He was, however, still a member of the SID. Drake utilised Starfleet Intelligence's policy of contracting irregular forces. Macen was supplied with a business license and a letter of marque. Macen now had the ability to operate under the auspices of Starfleet while engaged in pursuing the interests of the Federation.

Once equipped with a ship and flying under the banner of the newly created Outbound Ventures, Inc. Macen ands the team were ready for action. They were based on the colony world of Barrinor. The colony was populated by Federation citizens but located outside of Federation borders. They were just as content to remain out of Federation borders for as long as possible.

Their next mission was a rescue operation. By this time, being uncomfortable with starship command and operations, Macen had recruited Tom Riker and a dedicated ship's crew to relieve the team's members. The mission to Magna Roma had quickly escalated. It ended with the toppling of the planet's dominant government. An unexpected twist brought Lisea Danan back into the fold as she signed up to be the team's sciences specialist.

Tragedy struck shortly thereafter when an engagement with an Omicron cruiser killed the bulk of the crew, including to all accounts, Tom Riker. Macen and most of his investigative team were beamed aboard a Section 31 scout-interceptor and brought to its commander. The ship's CO was an old nemesis of Macen, an antagonism that dated back to Macen's arrival in the Alpha Quadrant. The team escaped but not before Macen engineered the destruction of the ship.

The following months had been mild in comparison. There had been encounters with pirates. Macen and T'Kir had infiltrated a group of political insurgents. This was followed by a joint operation with the Tal Shiar investigating weapons smugglers. The team's most recent assignment had pitted them against the Iotians.

Over the course of the past year, Macen's life had radically changed and taken on new depths. His final break-up with Lisea had come as a relief. They'd been too opposed to one another. They were hurting each other more than anything else towards the end.

His relationship with T'Kir had surprised him. Oh, she'd floated the idea of various sexual unions between them at times but she'd been half off her lid at the time. Now that she was somewhat stable, he'd never expected her to carry a torch for him. What had profoundly shaken him to his core was his experience on Magna Roma. Sitting in the gladiatorial pens, waiting to fight, he'd had ample time to reflect on his life.

His one true regret was that he hadn't told T'Kir that he was madly in love with her. The mere admission to himself that he loved her dramatically altered his worldview. Throughout his Starfleet career and beyond, Macen was constantly being cited for bravery and gallantry. The truth of the matter was that he simply didn't care if he lived or died. He'd suddenly found something worth fighting for and it sustained him until his rescue could be affected.

Much to his delight, and everlasting relief, she felt the same way. Their common background and years of friendship knit them together in a way both had once considered impossible. Her telepathy aided in that process. They'd developed a mild but permanent rapport that allowed them to monitor the other's surface thoughts at will.

Even T'Kir's instabilities proved beneficial. Macen's last psyche profile for the SID was rumoured to be classified and under lock and key, viewable at Admiral Drake's discretion. He remembered the diagnosis: acute Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Symptoms: Strong to violent reactions towards perceived threats, withdrawn behaviours, emotional instabilities, and inability to trust others. The Starfleet counsellors had accounted for his destroying both the _Royalty _and the _Slipstream_ as a reflex inspired by his "condition".

Macen saw it differently. Their diagnosis may be well and truly accurate but it left out one important aspect of Macen's mentality. Macen believed death was inevitable, the only thing varied was how and when you met your fate. To Macen, fate was a tangible quantity in the universe. If Herbert Spencer had wanted to live, he wouldn't have led a mutiny and become a pirate. In Macen's paradigm once that choice was made his fate was sealed.

* * *

Now he stood surrounded by a group of thugs and his empathic senses, as minuscule as they were, could sense Squibs' fear. Macen stood there clad in black fatigue pants, a grey lightweight sweater, black combat boots and a brown "bomber" jacket. Squibs studied Macen for a moment, but there was nothing to be revealed. The El-Aurian appeared to be in his early thirties but looks were deceiving where that race was concerned. Orion intelligence had it on good authority that Macen was over four hundred years old.

Macen's reddish-gold hair was the same as before. His moustache and goatee were unchanged. His face was unmistakably his, still dominated by high cheekbones and a nose and lips that were slightly too large. Finally it dawned on Squibs what the change was: Macen's eyes had changed colour. He'd been told the El-Aurian's eyes shifted with what he wore but it difficult to believe until it was witnessed.

There was something else in those eyes. A hidden knowledge waiting to be revealed. There was a subtle glint of the eyes and Squibs started to shout a warning but it was too late. Macen's right hand whipped around with the Bajoran phaser he'd had holstered in the small of his back. His first shot took out Squibs. His second stunned the smuggler in front of T'Kir.

T'Kir, who'd managed to clear the compact phaser she carried out of the shoulder holster she wore. She frowned when the smuggler immediately in front of her went down. She turned left and shot the smuggler struggling to bring his phaser rifle to bear on Daggit. He sagged to the floor with a groan.

Daggit, ignoring the struggling smuggler to his left, wheeled about and took one of the rearguard criminals with his first shot. He took the second with his follow up salvo. Meanwhile, Radil swung her cannon about and caught the remaining gunrunner in the head with it. He collapsed in a heap and Radil grunted in disgust.

"Helluva thing. I lug this damned thing down here and I don't even get to shoot it." she complained.

"We'll try harder to provide you with a target next time." Macen tried to suppress an amused grin. He turned to find T'Kir glaring at him, arms akimbo, fists firmly planted on her hips, "What?" he asked helplessly.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

"What was 'what'?" he asked with some befuddlement.

"Shooting my bad guy." she explained, "What was that?"

"He was there, I was in motion and I took the shot."

"No hero-type macho crap about saving your girlfriend?" her glare intensified and she leaned in menacingly towards him.

"No." he looked at her as though she were crazy, "And step back before we really do have a problem."

T'Kir defiantly held her ground for a moment then relented and stepped back, "Party pooper."

"Fates, girl, but you like to live dangerously." Macen shook his head.

"Captain?" Daggit interrupted, "I don't know about Radil, but I think I need my eyes and ears scrubbed out."

"Uncomfortable Rab?" Macen asked with genuine delight.

"Let's just say I've seen too much." Daggit said heavily, "Your private business is yours. Please leave me out of it."

"Why Rab, I do believe we need to find you a woman." T'Kir said enthusiastically, "That'll loosen you up."

"But I don't want to be loosened up."

"Nonsense. It'll make a man out of you and all that rot." Macen said in his best imitation of Jean-Luc Picard.

"That's what they said when I joined the army." Daggit sighed, "All that did was turn me into a freak."

"Being a freak isn't bad." Macen countered, "Look at T'Kir and I. We're both mad as hatters and see where we've ended up. It's the so called 'normal' people you have to watch out for."

"That's such a comfort, sir." Daggit replied dryly.

"Can we shut the hell up and leave?" Radil fumed.

"Something wrong Radil?" Macen asked, "Something you'd feel like sharing?"

"Not at this time." Radil visibly restrained herself, "Maybe later."

"Fair enough." He tapped his comm badge and opened a circuit to the _SS Solstice _orbiting overhead, "Macen to Danan. Mission accomplished."

"Danan to Macen, is everyone in one piece?"

"Affirmative. Even the bad guys came out ahead on this one."

"Will you be requiring the transponder tags?"

"Yup. We have six snoozing villains. Have Dracas beam them directly to the cargo bay and have Jamie Kirk standing by to assist us in transporting these cretins to the brig."

"It looks like you'll be getting back just in time."

"Why's that?" Macen inquired.

"You've had a message from one Lieutenant Ro. She says you are ordered to return to _DS9 _post haste to meet with a representative of Starfleet Command."

"Ro said 'post haste'?" he asked in disbelief.

"No. I was editorialising for that bit." Danan admitted, "What she actually said was 'get here now' to meet with a, and I quote, 'a general staff officer'."

"My, Lees," Macen employed her nickname, "You just walked all over that one."

"My version sounded better." she said defensively.

"Whatever." Macen considered the message for a moment, "Someone must have been leaning on Ro to make her all stiff and withholding like that. I bet I know someone that isn't happy with a certain 'representative from Starfleet Command' right now."

"Well never mind that, have Dracas send down those transponders before Radil blows a gasket."

"You keep saying that." Danan complained, "What the hell is a gasket?"

"Ah, to be young again." He grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

52

Macen and the rest were beamed up to the _Solstice's_ transporter room. The _Blackbird_-class' primary hull design dated back to 2318. The SPYards had recently built Macen's Blackbird from the keel up. Although its exterior matched that of its predecessors, the _Solstice _boasted capabilities never conceived of by those early engineers. They made the diminutive scoutship a match for a starship in a limited engagement.

Hal Dracas, affectionately known as the Chief, manned the transporter console, "Good to see you back in one piece." Dracas remarked dryly.

"It was no problem." Macen replied with a shrug, "Just some petty thugs."

"His only close call was with me." T'Kir declared and took hold of Macen's arm, leaning into him.

Dracas witnessed this tender gesture and was moved despite his reputation as the gruff old man of the group. It was true that Dracas was at least twenty years older than any other member of the team, excluding Macen and T'Kir. He shuddered to think that T'Kir was ten years older than he was and yet retained a youthfulness he didn't recall ever having. A childhood spent as a Troglyte on Ardanna IV was not an experience that Dracas would recommend to any sentient in the galaxy.

Dracas had been raised, as the bulk of Troglyte children were, in the mines. Thanks to progressive innovations made since the fateful visit by James T. Kirk and the _Enterprise_, Troglytes were now able to receive educations and move offworld if they secured gainful employment. Dracas had left as a teenager to join Starfleet. Recruited as an enlisted man, Dracas displayed a grasp of advanced engineering principles while still in training.

Upon completion of his training, Dracas was sent to an advanced engineering course. Next came courses on starship design and repair. He was assigned to the Utopia Planetia Yards upon graduating all of his training programs. He worked in the Yards for ten years before being transferred to the Advanced Starship Design Bureau.

At the ASDB, Dracas worked on classified projects. He was literally building prototypes of tomorrow's starships today. He spent fifteen contented years with the Bureau before his next challenge arrived. It arrived in the form of Admiral Alynna Nechayev.

Nechayev simply asked Dracas if there were anything more he wanted out of life. Dracas hesitantly admitted he'd like to see the fruits of his labour realised now not when he was an old man. Nechayev smiled and said he could do that. There was, she said, a division of Starfleet where the ASDB's concepts were transformed into reality. Dracas was hooked and his transfer to the SPYards was assured.

Dracas' motive behind his move from the SPYards to Macen's SID team was a little more mysterious. Dracas had simply said it was time for him to venture into the field and Macen had merely nodded and accepted the engineer's reasoning. Dracas signed aboard as the most private member of the team but, as was to be revealed, he was far from the only one with secrets. Even after all the team had been put through, Dracas still spent the bulk of his time alone. His only true friend among his teammates was Rab Daggit.

Now Dracas stood before his CO and his teammates clad in brown coveralls. They were of a type popular amongst Starfleet engineers in the 2260s. Underneath, he visibly wore an olive drab tee shirt. Like the rest of the team, Dracas wore a utility belt. Unlike the rest of the team, his was filled with tools and diagnostic equipment. He carried no weaponry while aboard ship.

Dracas himself bore the effects of age well. His thick hair was silver grey and worn in choppy spikes. His brown eyes glittered with intelligence. Dracas was the shortest male member of the team but that did little to affect his confidence. Although physically the most advanced in years, Dracas maintained his physical condition through a special exercise regime developed by Daggit for him.

"Kort said he'd be joining you in the cargo bay to assist in the transfer of the prisoners." Dracas informed Macen, "He mentioned something about checking on the prisoners' condition."

"Which is Kort-speak for 'Let's kick `em while they're down'." Macen sighed and turned back towards Daggit and Radil, "We'd better go rescue the soon to be victims from our mad doctor."

* * *

Macen, T'Kir, Daggit and Radil arrived in the Cargo Bay to find Kort tapping one of their prisoners with a booted foot. Macen cleared his throat and Kort guiltily stepped away. It was a difficult thing to do to make a grown Klingon warrior, or warrior-medic in this case, look like an embarrassed six-year old child, but Macen succeeded. Kirk, on the other hand, put as much distance between herself and the Klingon as she could.

Kort was an enigma. Dishonoured and exiled from the Klingon Empire, he was also the most honourable Klingon Macen had ever met. Kort took his duties, and his oath to perform them, very gravely. Kort's biggest problem was that he couldn't control himself when he drank.

Alcohol was at the root of why Kort had been banished from the Empire. Although a specialist in combat medicine, Kort had been called upon to treat Chancellor Gowron's prized _targs_ who had been wounded in a hunting accident. Sodden with drink, Kort was unable to save the beasts and was in turn arrested for their "murder". A short, and one-sided, trial before the High Council stripped Kort of House and name and forever banished him from the Empire.

Kort stumbled about the Federation before being recruited to work for Starfleet Intelligence by Admiral Nechayev. She knew of Kort's past and more importantly, his skills. Soon, Kort was serving as a medic for many of Intelligence's covert operations. When the Gulag mission came about and Macen requested a replacement for the mole that had infiltrated his crew in place of the real Chief Medical Officer, Kort came first to mind. Macen won Kort's undying loyalty within moments of his arrival and the exile found a home.

Despite his working for Starfleet, Kort had never surrendered his Klingon armour. It was stripped of clan insignia but it was still his. He wore it as his daily uniform. His only concession to being an employee of Outbound Ventures, and a member of the SID team, was his carrying a Bajoran phaser on his belt.

Kort was ruggedly handsome for a Klingon. He had a scar on his left cheek that made for an interesting conversation piece. He'd received it in battle against the Jem'Hadar. It was a topic he didn't enjoy discussing.

Standing beside Kort, and looking as though she wished she were anywhere else, was the crew's latest addition. Jamie Kirk was formerly _Captain_ Kirk of the Iotian Starfleet. She'd been instrumental in convincing the Iotians to aid Tom Riker in his assault on Magna Roma. She'd also led the Iotian forces to victory over the Romans. Then had come the demands to reparations.

The Magna Romans had revolted at the notion of reparation payments to a foreign power and the newly installed government was powerless to stem this popular uprising. When the Iotians dispatched more forces to acquire their demands by any means necessary, the Romans met them with force. Even Nova Roma's traditional enemies

aided her in this struggle. The foreign aggressor was beaten back at a heavy cost and the Iotians limped home in disgrace. It was the first time they had faced defeat.

Jamie Kirk was selected as a scapegoat. The contention was that if she had not involved them in Roman affairs in the beginning, the subsequent policy mistakes and strategic errors would not have occurred. Kirk said nothing in her own defence, believing that her record and her intentions spoke for themselves. She was thrown out of the service and it was quietly suggested that she leave Iotian space.

Kirk purchased a small scoutcraft and set out for the Federation. During the initial Roman campaign, she and Riker had paired up. The relationship looked to have promised, the only obstacle had been their respective duties. That obstacle had been removed from her life. She planned to find Riker and continue where they'd left off while she struggled to put together a new life.

Armed with the knowledge that Riker had worked for a security and expeditionary outfit called Outbound Ventures, she tracked down the company to its home base on Barrinor. Kirk arrived to find that Captain Macen and crew were out on an assignment. She scheduled the first available appointment and returned to her ship to await word of the _Solstice's _return. While lying in her bunk, her mind replayed the image of the strange look the office manager had given her when Kirk had left a message for Tom Riker.

Kirk waited for two weeks for the _Solstice's _return. It took another three days for her to receive the comm signal informing her of her impending meeting with Brin Macen the following day. Kirk barely slept that night and rose early to prepare for her appointment.

Kirk arrived at the Outbound Ventures offices to find Christine Pike, the office manager, sitting behind her desk. Pike motioned for Kirk to take a seat in the waiting area and activated a comm circuit and began speaking in hushed tones. Macen appeared a moment later. He smiled and shook her hand.

"Captain, it's good to see you again."

Kirk was surprised, and a little flattered, that Macen remembered her. The two only met briefly in the days following the fall of the Nova Roman emperor. They'd liased for some after action reports and then parted ways. The warmth in which he'd made his opening remark made her feel it was sincere.

"Thank _you_, Captain," Kirk replied, "but please, just call me Jamie. I'm no longer with the Iotian Starfleet."

"By choice?" Macen inquired.

"It was," Kirk paused then pressed forward, "it was the best accommodation for all concerned."

"I see." Macen said and Kirk believed that he did. His powers of perception seemed to penetrate her, "Would you care to step back into my office to discuss whatever brought you here to Barrinor?"

"I'd be delighted." Kirk said and followed him through the doors he'd emerged from. Beyond lay a corridor leading to several other doors. The end of the corridor ended in a massive set of double doors. He stopped before a door with several sensor panels lining the door's edges.

Macen placed his palm against one panel. Next he stepped forward for a retina scan. Finally, he entered a code in a wall-mounted keyboard. The door slid open to reveal a Vulcan women that looked to be in her late twenties, but given the longevity of the race was probably far older than she appeared.

"I hope there's a good reason for this break-in, T'Kir." Macen said sternly but without any rancour.

"I've told you we need to tighten up the security measures and I've just proven it." she said proudly.

"You had an advantage." Macen replied, "You helped install and program this equipment."

"But I didn't know your key code." T'Kir said, "That was a snap to break."

"If you couldn't, I'd have to fire you."

She looked stunned, "You can't fire me. I'm your girlfriend."

"Out." Macen ordered.

"Fine." T'Kir huffed and got off his desk. On her way out she called back to Kirk, "Nice to see you again."

"Was that a Vulcan?" Kirk asked in disbelief.

"My one and only." Macen confirmed and took a seat behind his desk.

Kirk took a seat opposite him, "And what she said is true? You and she are a couple?"

"Yup." Macen said happily, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

He leaned forward, "Now, why don't we talk about why you're here."

And Kirk told him about the events following his team's departure from Roman space. She spoke of the Iotians' response and subsequent expulsion from Magna Roma. Next she described her court-martial and unofficial exile from Iotian territory. Finally, she told him of her brief relationship with Tom Riker and her hopes of rekindling the romantic fires that had once burned brightly.

Macen's face fell, "Fates! I wish I'd known. I could have told you sooner."

Kirk sat there in shock as Macen detailed the events surrounding Riker's death. As he spoke, Macen sensed that Riker had been Kirk's last toehold on hope. He couldn't abandon her to the vagaries awaiting her in the Alpha Quadrant. There was an alternative. It would just take some working around her knowledge gaps.

The Iotians had achieved a technological sophistication roughly equivalent to the latter half of the Federation's 23rd century. That meant Kirk was roughly a century behind the SID team. If he was to offer her a position on the team, and he knew he was about to, it would be with caveat that Kirk spend a great deal of her off duty hours studying. She leapt at the chance when the offer came.

Christine Pike drew up the employment contracts, casting a speculative eye Macen's way. The fact that Pike doubled as the company's SID liaison fuelled her scepticism. Macen gave her a dismissive eye roll and took Kirk back into the company complex to meet her new teammates. He escorted her back through the massive double doors and revealed to her the massive hangar complex. Situated within the complex, parked atop hydraulic lifts were the _Solstice, _the _Danube_-class runabout _Corsair_, and the _Skylark_-class scout _Idiot's Delight_.

Kirk went through the introductions on autopilot. Her eyes were fixed squarely on the _Solstice_. Macen understood her captivation. The scoutship was a thing of beauty. A fusion of the _Excelsior_ and _Ambassador_-class designs, the _Solstice _was only 104 metres in length and was designed to be operated by a handful of crewmen. Heavily armed for her size, the _Solstice _lived up to the reputation the _Blackbird_-class ships had carved out during the Border Wars.

It was swiftly revealed that Kirk's background in the Operations division of the Iotian Starfleet would serve her well. The Iotians were on the verge of developing isolinear technology. Kirk's familiarity with the Iotian design efforts made her a quick study regarding engineering applications. The fact that she was a quick study aided her in swiftly grasping the other topics that were thrown at her. In order to make things more uniform, Macen had signed Kirk up for the Starfleet Academy prepatory course.

Kirk's hazel eyes surveyed the task at hand and she ran a hand through her sandy brown hair. Her hair was shortest on the sides and back and was a longer "mop" atop her head. The style had been all the fashion in the Federation during the 2260s. Kirk's thin lips readily curved into a smile. Her face was topped off by a pert little nose that seemed to compliment her petite size and height.

In the present though, she was paired up with Daggit and hauling unconscious criminals to the brig. Radil teamed up with Kort and Macen was, of course, matched with T'Kir. Despite the inherent difficulties with moving an inert body, the transfer went swiftly and smoothly. Afterwards, Kirk stood watch over the unconscious prisoners while Radil visited the armoury and stored her phaser cannon. Afterwards, Radil relieved Kirk.

Macen was grooming Kirk to be his second in command. She would essentially assume tactical command of the _Solstice _at that point. Macen would remain Mission Commander and would dictate the overall strategy the team pursued. It was a moment she yearned for. All she had to do is complete all her damned schooling. Kirk sighed and returned to her cabin for more studying.

* * *

The turbolift doors opened and Macen, T'Kir and Daggit emptied out onto the bridge. Lisea Danan rose out of the centre seat, deferring to Macen's presence. Hannah Grace excitedly leaned over as T'Kir took her station next to Grace's.

"Was it fun?" Grace whispered conspiratorially as T'Kir pinned her hair back, tucking stray strands behind her delicately curved ears.

"Always."

"Did the Captain get all protective?"

"Yes." T'Kir answered with smug satisfaction, "Of course, he won't admit it."

Grace sighed, "He loves you so much."

T'Kir squeezed her hand, "Your day will come, Hannah."

"I doubt it." Grace replied bitterly.

T'Kir had to admit to herself that the odds looked pretty bleak right now. They were much higher before Grace revealed she wasn't even human, appearances aside. She was a member of a mysterious extragalactic race known as the Kelvans. If Grace had been upfront with that information, she wouldn't be facing the questioning glances of some of her teammates or Starfleet's ire.

Grace had come to the SID by way of the 54th Fighter Squadron. Grace had reported to the squadron directly out of the Academy. She'd served in the final months of the Dominion War. This participation included being directly involved in the final campaigns against the Dominion and Cardassia.

Having established a spotless record filled with exploits of extraordinary accomplishments, Grace was approached by Starfleet Intelligence. Grace accepted Admiral Nechayev's invitation and was immediately put to work piloting a _Pathfinder_-class courier. Grace soon found herself assigned to the prototype _USS Odyssey_. Grace was the relief pilot under the command of one Lieutenant Julia D'arte.

During the course of the mission, D'arte was exposed as a Section 31 mole. Grace assumed her duties and assisted Lisea Danan in dealing with the orbital forces sent to interdict the _Odyssey_. Macen beamed to the surface and revealed the existence of the Gulag and forced the Federation Council to take action. When the dust settled and Macen was tasked with recruiting the first SID team, Grace was asked to join up.

Unbeknownst to her teammates, Grace was a riddle laden with secrets. Besides hiding her ultimate identity and vocation as a Kelvan scout, Grace had been a member of Section 31. Recruited while still in the Academy, she'd performed minor functions for the covert agency until her acceptance of Macen's invitation to join the SID. She held that loyalty in much higher esteem than her perfunctory allegiance to Section 31.

Grace had transmitted a message to her handler tendering her resignation. He'd sought her out and taken her prisoner in order to negotiate a deal with Macen. Macen arrived and bargained for Grace's release from Section 31's clutches in exchange for a limited non-interference pact. Macen overlooked Grace's indiscretion in withholding her previous associations yet she still held fast to her final secret.

That secret came to light when Grace was forced to reveal her true nature, thereby saving her teammates from a mutinous crew. Macen's absence from the ship precluded his expressing an opinion regarding the whole event. As it was, most of Grace's teammates now regarded her with suspicion and more than a little fear. Once again it took Macen's continued acceptance of Grace to smooth matters over with the crew. Some resentment lingered and there was a general feeling that there were still surprises yet to come.

Grace possessed a round face with full lips and a broad nose. Her eyes were chocolate brown and shown with her zest for life. Her blond hair was cut in a bob that just reached midway between her cheekbones and her jaw.

On the other hand, the general consensus was that Lisea Danan possessed no secrets. Her return to the team had initially been heralded. Her time with the team since had only reinforced their high estimation of her. It why she kept her one secret hidden. It could potentially tear the team apart.

Danan lived in fear of discovery. Although she marvelled at T'Kir's recovery and progress, Danan feared her most of all. In lieu of confession, Danan buried herself in penitent acts. She acted as the unofficial ship's counsellor for most of the crew. Eight lifetimes of experience granted her remarkable insight into the nature of problems.

When Danan originally left the group, it had been because her relationship with Macen had just ended. Although it had ended on good terms, she didn't feel capable of dealing with him on a daily basis. She'd resigned from Starfleet and joined the Daystrom Institute. After years with the Maquis and covert operations work for Starfleet, the life of an ordinary researcher swiftly lost its appeal.

After her captivity on Magna Roma ended, Danan petitioned Macen to come and work for Outbound Ventures. He hired her and she was brought on as a scientific consultant. Danan expected to utilise her skills over the course of difficult cases. She'd never expected to become the team's acting executive officer after the loss of Tom Riker.

It was a role Danan was uncomfortable with. She tutored Jamie Kirk whenever their duty schedules allowed it. She was relieved to find out how bright Kirk was. Danan couldn't wait until she passed the reins of command to Kirk.

As far as Danan's physical description was concerned, she was the tallest female crewmember, taller than Dracas and on equal footing with Kort. However, Macen and Daggit still overshadowed her. Her eyes were sea green. Danan changed her naturally dark brown hair to a golden blonde. Her altered colour contrasted the dark spots that lined her face and body for Danan was a Trill and a host of a symbiot.

"We're set to make way for _DS9_." Danan reported.

"Then get underway." Macen ordered, "And Lees? Could you man the fort up here for a bit longer?"

Danan gave him a quizzical look and Macen's face adopted a wry expression, "Radil was shaken up by our experience down there. I think it has something to do with confronting members of the Orion Syndicate."

"Shouldn't I..?"

Macen shook his head, "I think this one requires a CO's touch."

"All right." Danan dubiously relented, "Call if you need me."

"Always."

* * *

Macen entered the brig to find Radil seated at the desk situated before the two security cells. Radil was leaned forward with her chin propped up in the palm of her hand. Her other hand was twirling her phaser atop the desk. He'd hoped to find her using the desk's computer to catch up on some reading or news but instead she was looking bored and hungry for a target.

"How are they?" Macen inquired.

"They're just starting to stir." came a surprisingly mild reply from the normally acerbic Radil. Her posture and gaze remained fixed.

"Could we speak out in the corridor for a moment?" Macen requested.

Radil glanced towards him, then back to the cells.

"Even if they manage to escape from the cells, their only escape route will take them right to us." Macen assured her.

Radil shrugged her shoulders and rose from her seat. She holstered her phaser and followed Macen out into the corridor. Both of them took up positions that offered them a clear field of fire of the brig door. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed while Macen determined what it was he should say.

"Look, Jenrya, I'll be blunt." he opted for the direct approach, "I know confronting agents of the Orion Syndicate was difficult for you."

"It was fine." Radil insisted.

"No." Macen replied firmly, "It wasn't. I _know_. I know how badly it twisted you up inside. It's why you're sitting in there ready to shoot the first person that recognises you."

Macen saw her rally for a defiant denial and then she subsided, almost deflating in on herself, "So, what if you're right?"

"Then I'd suggest recalling Jamie to relieve you." Macen suggested, "And I'd spend the time I have off talking to someone I trust about what's going on."

She mulled his words over and then slowly nodded, "Would you happen to know if Kort's on-duty right now?"

"Kort writes his own schedule." Macen said with a smile, "He said he was headed for the gym when we finished with the prisoner transfer. With luck you can still catch him there."

Radil hesitated then spoke, "Thank you."

"No problem." he replied, "Glad to help."

"I'm beginning to think I've been too critical about this team and you in particular."

Macen chuckled, "I won't argue but this is why we give and receive second chances."

"I'll keep that in mind." Radil said thoughtfully.

"Get going." Macen ordered, "I can hold the fort here until Jamie arrives.

Radil suddenly kissed Macen on the cheek, "For your kindness, just don't tell T'Kir. I don't need that mindwitch sifting around in my brain out of jealousy."

"My lips and thoughts are sealed." he promised and she left. Macen tapped his comm badge, "Jamie?"

"Yeah?" she sounded frustrated.

"How about a study break?"

"Doing what?"

"I've got a little job for you…"


	4. Chapter 4

The transit between _Empok Nor _and _DS9_ was a relatively short jaunt, having been completed in just under four hours at warp 5. The _Solstice _then spent another hour clearing traffic control to dock at _DS9_. They were assigned to upper pylon 3. Grace brought the ship into position and the station's computers handled the final docking sequence.

"Look at that." Grace gasped, shifting the viewer image to display the _Sovereign_-class starship docked at pylon 1, "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Just one big, fat target." T'Kir said as she utilised her OPS board to connect the ship to the station's air, water, energy, and data networks, "We took out plenty of _Galor_-class cruisers with ships half as powerful as this one in our day."

Grace replied with a raspberry. Meanwhile, Macen rose from the command chair and headed for the turbolift.

"Where you headed, bub?" T'Kir demanded.

"To see if Security provided a welcoming committee." Macen answered, "Rab, you're with me."

Daggit left the Tactical console and followed Macen into the turbolift. The doors hissed closed and Macen asked for the Deck 3. The airlock door was located opposite of Sickbay, as was the brig. Deck 4 was Engineering and the deflector array and the anti-deuterium tanks took up Deck 5.

Macen cycled the airlock door and it sprang forward and slid aside. The umbilical linking the ship and the station was wide enough to allow such movement. The Cardassian designers of the station had attempted to accommodate as many possible variations of ship types as possible. Macen and Daggit strode to the station's airlock at the other end of the umbilical. Macen cycled the door and it rolled aside, looking all the while like a giant gear. The departing door revealed a certain Lieutenant Ro Laren standing within the station's corridors awaiting them.

Ro wore a wry smile as she saw Macen. She sported her Starfleet Security uniform that denoted her position as the station's Chief of Security. Accompanying her was a small squad of her men. All were armed.

"Expecting trouble?" Macen asked.

Ro shook her head, "They're just here to relieve you of your prisoners."

"Awfully considerate of you." Macen sounded sceptical, "Why do I feel there's more to this?"

"There are two more items on the agenda." Ro admitted ruefully, "I'm to bring you straightaway to Ops for your briefing with the Admiral."

"What's Nechayev want now?" Macen asked wearily.

"How did you know she was here?" Ro wondered.

"The _Sovereign _is her flagship. It doesn't travel very far without her."

"Well, she's not alone. She's brought another admiral with her." Ro informed him, "They arrived yesterday and suddenly took over things today. They briefed Captain Kira and Commander Vaughn earlier today but whatever they discussed is being kept hush hush. Right now they're holed up in the Captain's office waiting to talk to you."

"Wonderful." Macen grimaced, "Looks like it's time to save civilisation again."

"But you do it so well."

Macen rolled his eyes, "Want to know about your prisoners and their individual charges or d'you just want to read the reports?"

"I'll read the reports anyway but why don't you give me the skinny." Ro suggested.

"We arranged a buy to acquire some weapons grade trilithium." Macen informed her, "Only there was no trilithium. It was a sting set up by the Orion Syndicate. We arrived at the rendezvous and they tried to roll us."

"I take it they were unsuccessful." Ro remarked dryly.

"Very droll." Macen retorted, "You want them now?"

Ro motioned for her men to spring into action. Daggit motioned for them to follow him, "This way officers."

Macen tapped his comm badge, "Macen to Danan."

"Danan here."

"Inform the crew they are now on liberty."

A cheer could be heard from T'Kir and Grace, "Understood, Captain." Danan laughed.

"So are you and T'Kir still..?" Ro asked.

"Yes." he said patiently, "We're still together."

"She did try to kill you once, if you recall." Ro reminded him.

"That point's been made before." Macen assured her.

"Hey," she held her hands up as to wash her hands of it, "it's your funeral, pal."

* * *

T'Kir locked down the ship and the team moved to the station's Promenade. Radil and Kort went to dine at the Klingon restaurant. The rest of the team proceeded to Quark's. Ro caught Macen by the arm.

"You have a meeting, remember?"

Macen scowled and T'Kir spoke up, "Aw, tell `em to get stuffed."

"And here we have a shining example of why you're not in command." Macen told her wryly.

T'Kir stuck her tongue out and Macen shrugged, "And there's another example."

"Get going before I forget why I love you." She shoved him away. Macen took hold of her and drew her in close to him. He passionately kissed her then stepped away and began walking after Ro towards the turbolift, "That's why you love me." he called back.

"Damn straight." she breathed then shook herself and followed her comrades into Quark's.

* * *

The turbolift deposited Macen and Ro at Ops. They stepped out of the lift and descended down the stairs towards the operations terminal. They passed between the science station and the primary engineering board. Commander Elias Vaughn, the station's XO and the displaced CO, Captain Kira Nerys were situated at the Ops board.

"Brin," Vaughn smiled warmly as he rose to shake Macen's hand, "good to see you again."

Kira extended her hand as well, "A pleasure, Captain."

"An unexpected one, Captain especially this soon after our last meeting."

Kira narrowly smiled, "It was memorable, wasn't it?"

It was then that Macen caught sight of Ambril Delori exiting the CO's office, "If you would excuse me, it would seem the powers-that-be have sent their angel of death to retrieve me."

Macen approached Ambril and gave a half-bow, "Lieutenant."

Despite herself, Ambril started to smile, "If I'm the angel of death, would that make you a vampire with a soul?"

"Pardon?"

"The Powers-That-Be selected a vampire cursed with a soul as their champion. Would that be your role in this metaphor?"

"I bow to your superior knowledge of the topic… and your acute hearing. I won't make that mistake again." Macen informed her.

"I shouldn't think so, not with you being paired up with a Vulcan and all."

"You're digging, Ambril. It's very beneath you." Macen chastised her, "So are Drake and Nechayev ready to see me?"

Ambril nodded, "Right this way."

Ro tagged along as Macen was led up the steps to the CO's office. Ambril pressed the door chime and the office doors spilt apart. Ambril proceeded straight to Kira's desk, currently occupied by Amanda Drake. Macen took up position halfway between the door and the desk. Ro stood alongside him.

Drake gave Ro a questioning glance and the Bajoran spoke, "I have brought Captain Brin Macen as ordered, ma'am."

"So you have." Drake replied, somewhat absent-mindedly, "You're dismissed Lieutenant."

"Ma'am?"

"Go away now. The following will be for Macen's ears alone."

"Very well." Ro clicked her heels together and departed with ramrod straight precision.

"Are all you ex-Maquis obstinate?" Drake wearily sighed.

"Pretty much." Macen replied happily, "Just remember, you're the one that seems to want us around."

"Oh, very well." Drake testily snapped, "Ambril, you can go as well."

"But, I…"

"Lieutenant, this rates above even your vaunted security clearance." Drake informed her, "So for your own sake, leave the bloody room."

Ambril straightened up and left with a "Yes, ma'am."

With all non-essential personnel ejected, Drake focused her attention on Macen. She seemed to come more to life as her focus narrowed on him. It seemed to Macen as though she were desperately grasping at a dangling lifeline. The question was: what was drowning her?

"Would you care to take a seat?" Drake suggested, "There's a couch behind you."

Macen turned to find Nechayev occupying a third of the sofa."

"All right." he sounded dubious as he took a seat.

"Would you care for any refreshments?" Drake offered, "I understand you've had at least an eighteen-hour day."

"Coffee would be good. With vanilla creamer," Macen ordered, "and a blueberry scone."

Drake inputted the order into the replicator and momentarily waited for the synthesisers to produce the correct items. When a tray appeared with a steaming mug, a small pitcher filled with cream, and a small baked mound of dough. Drake personally served Macen, who sat the tray on an end table situated to the side of the sofa. Drake returned to the desk and Nechayev shifted her position so that she could observe Macen.

"I'm certain you're wondering why Admiral Nechayev and I are here." Drake began to speak.

Macen took a sip of coffee and placed his mug down on the table, "Not really. I presume you have a crisis that threatens the balance of the Federation and you feel my team and I are the best qualified to deal with the situation." He arched his right eyebrow as he stared down Drake, "Am I correct?"

Drake and Nechayev exchanged glances. Drake heaved a sigh, "We do have situation that affects the Federation President, and through him, potentially the rest of the Federation and Starfleet."

"Damn." Macen softly swore, "I hate being right."

"Just wait, it gets better." Drake warned, "The crisis is that the President's daughter has been kidnapped from her high-security quarters at Oxford University."

"How did Federation Security manage that?"

"By being outwitted by two platoons of renegade Starfleet Special Forces troopers. The kidnapping was masterminded and led by one Admiral Gideon Weisz." Macen winced and Drake continued, "'Commodore' Weisz, as he prefers to be called, personally contacted the President and claimed responsibility for these actions."

"He must have made a demand." Macen's voice was rather detached and clinical.

Nechayev took over at this point, "Since the end of the Dominion War, the President had been trying to quietly restructure Starfleet's existing units as well reprioritise the new units coming on line. As your intimately aware, Starfleet and the Federation have been involved in one conflict or another for over sixteen years."

"The President feels that perhaps we'll be more prone to seek diplomatic solutions if we downplay the military aspects of Starfleet."

"How did this affect Weisz?" Macen inquired.

"The President, through the C-n-C, has proposed decommissioning the Special Forces. The officers and enlisted men and women wouldn't be forcibly retired, they'd simply be assigned to mainstream units."

"Fates preserve us." Macen laughed coldly, "I'd be willing to bet that Weisz's inherent loyalty to Starfleet is all that contented him with merely kidnapping the daughter." He took a deep swig from his mug and held it out for Drake, "I think I'm going to need another. I still have cream."

Macen turned to Nechayev, "You still haven't outlined his demands."

Nechayev took a sip of her tea and replied with a feral smile, "Why, simply that the Special Forces not be disbanded."

"Well, that makes sense." Macen thought aloud, "When I encountered some of these Special Forces troops during the war, their lives revolved around the corps..."

"A very succinct observation."

Drake handed him his coffee, "So, when can you go in?"

"D'you have this guy's co-ordinates?" Macen asked sceptically.

"We have it narrowed to a single sector." Drake answered.

"That's still a lot of territory to search out and investigate every potential hidey-hole."

"You don't want the mission?" Drake sounded surprised.

"What I want is a break." Macen admitted, "My team and I have just completed four consecutive missions back to back. I owe those people a rest."

Nechayev broke the silence that followed, "Brin, there's more. Something I think you in particular need to see."

Macen gave her a suspicious glance but subsided, "Okay."

"Before Amanda plays the following transmission, I need to fill you in a few facts."

"That'll be a first."

Nechayev ignored the barb and pressed on, "For two weeks, we've been trying to determine any possible location where the President's daughter could be held. Five days ago, we received our first solid lead. The signal originated in the Cardassian farside region." The Cardassian farside was the part of the Union closest to the Gamma Quadrant.

"Be warned, Brin, you may find the following to be disturbing." Drake warned and activated the viewer. A large panel in the office wall slid aside to reveal a viewing screen. Drake supplied her authorisation code and playback began. Macen stiffened as he recognised Riker's image. He froze as Tom identified himself.

"To anyone receiving this, my name is Tom Riker. I'm a citizen of the United Federation of Planets and I'm being held prisoner against my will. I've been held for almost six months. I don't know the identities of my captors. Two weeks ago a new development occurred. The base is now filled with Starfleet Special Forces troops. I've overheard them referencing some high-ranking prisoner. I don't know who it is. Hopefully when, and if, Starfleet Intelligence receives this message they'll be able to determine who this other prisoner is."

"Now to the most important part of this message. This base is a research facility conducting experiments in…" there the message ended abruptly.

Macen sat transfixed at the final frozen frame. Riker looked haggard and worn. He'd noticeably lost weight, and from a survivor of a Cardassian labour camp, that took some doing. He was also obviously naked. There were signs of bruising across his chest and arms.

"Give me the sector designator." Macen said in a low voice that almost growled, "We'll be ready to leave in a few hours."

Macen began to rise and Drake called out, "Wait… there's more."

Macen stood regardless and fixed her with a cold stare, "More?"

"Your assignment is to locate Commodore Weisz and the President's daughter. If an opportunity for a negotiated release presents itself, then partake of it _after_ you request reinforcements. If you manage to find Weisz's current lair, observe unless the aforementioned circumstances occur and await back-up."

"And Riker and this lab? Where do they fit in this equation?" Macen asked angrily.

"They don't." Drake answered with genuine remorse, "Riker is expendable and the lab will be so much collateral damage after your reinforcing squadron arrives."

"Go to Hell, Amanda." Macen told her, "I won't obey those orders."

"You don't have a choice!" Drake snapped, "If you don't, you've not only sealed your fate with the SID but the fate of every irregular that works for me. Consider that while you're busy feeling self-righteous."

"I'm afraid I can't." Macen admitted.

"Can't or won't?" Drake asked angrily.

Macen shrugged, "Take your pick."

"Then you're off the assignment." Drake said sadly, "Which is too bad, with you on the case that young woman stood a decent chance of coming home."

"But not Tom Riker." Macen reminded her.

"No, damn you. Not Tom Riker." Drake suddenly seemed weary, "You're dismissed."

Macen snapped off a sloppy salute and exited the office. Drake faced Nechayev and buried her face in her hands, "Thed caod hib gnn bttmn."

"Excuse me?" Nechayev prompted.

Drake lifted her face out of her hands, "That could have gone better."

Nechayev waved the thought away, "Nonsense. It couldn't have gone better."

"How can you say that?" Drake demanded, "Our best agent just walked out the door _after _I moved heaven and hell to get him the assignment in the first place."

"Oh, he's accepted the assignment." Nechayev assured her, "He just hasn't accepted it on your terms."

"My God, you think he'll undertake this mission on his own?"

"It grants us plausible deniability in case something goes wrong, and Tom Riker might just get a reprieve after all."

"'Plausible deniability'?" Drake asked distastefully, "Are you expecting trouble?"

"Commodore Weisz will never willingly surrender his hostage without his demands having been met." Nechayev asserted.

"And how do you know this?"

Nechayev softly laughed, "That's right. You've never met Weisz. He's what could be called a 'zealot'. Once he's chosen a cause, he'll pursue it with every fibre of his being. In that regard, he's rather like our friend, Macen."

"You truly see Macen that way?"

"How can I not?" Nechayev asked, "Once he's accepted a mission, he's relentless in pursuing it. He will resort to nearly any means necessary to complete it. The restrictions being that he will not kill indiscriminately and he will not accept any moral or sexual depravity. Any other methods are acceptable."

"I'd always just assumed these traits stemmed from his stubbornness." Drake admitted.

"Oh, he's stubborn. I've met few as stubborn as that man." Nechayev continued, "But that's not what drives him. You see, Macen is what could be best described as a 'true believer'."

"I hope you're going to explain that term." Drake said in exasperation.

Nechayev smiled warmly, "It is an expression that has fallen out of popular use. A 'true believer' is an idealist that believes wholeheartedly in their cause."

"Macen's always struck me as being something of a cynic."

"You've only known him after the wars. He's an idealist disguised by a mask of cynicism."

"So, what's his cause?" Drake wondered.

Nechayev smiled enigmatically, "Now _there's_ the mystery."

* * *

"Got it!" T'Kir announced proudly as she passed a padd up over her head, "Everything you could want to know about 'ultra top secret' kidnappings and the suspected whereabouts of said kidnappers."

Macen accepted the padd and placed it in a pocket, "I knew there was a reason I loved you."

"No," T'Kir wore an impish grin, "you love me because of what I was doing to you two days ago."

Daggit cleared his throat, "My ears are so beyond burning."

"So are those of a few other patrons." Macen advised. They'd gone to the station's public data access centre to conduct their illegal "raid" of Starfleet's secure files.

"Rab," Macen addressed Daggit, "you and Radil get Kort out of Quark's and back to the ship while he can still walk."

"Yessir." Daggit replied crisply and departed.

"What're we gonna do?" T'Kir asked.

"We'll round up the others and return to the ship."

"Already?" she pouted.

"`Fraid so."

"Could you at least give me a head's up as to what's going on?"

Macen stopped walking and turned to face her, "Tom Riker's alive. He's being held captive at an unknown facility and being guarded by two platoons of Starfleet Special Forces."

"_Frinx_ me!" T'Kir breathed.

"Some other time." Macen replied with a grin, "Right now we need to concentrate on getting underway. The bad guys know Tom transmitted an SOS and are probably reinforcing as we speak."

"What're our odds?" she asked, her composure recovered.

"About the same as always."

"That bad?"

"Worse, actually." Macen gave T'Kir that devil-may-care grin of his and suddenly she felt relieved. She only worried when Macen was deathly serious.

* * *

"So you're certain that Macen will conduct the search for bar Weisz on his own initiative?" Drake asked.

"We dangled Tom Riker before him. That's bait he can't refuse." Nechayev said.

"I hate to sound repetitive, but how do you know?" the younger admiral wondered.

"I've known the man for the better part of forty years." Nechayev elaborated, "In that time, he's never been able to abandon cohorts without first attempting to rescue them. It's the one behaviour in which he is utterly and dependably predictable."

"We didn't give him the sector designator or the details regarding bar Weisz's forces. How will they know where to go or what they'll be facing?"

"If T'Kir's living up to her reputation, they should have that information by now."

"My God!" Drake exclaimed, "Could she really pull it off?"

"She's your operative." Nechayev scolded, "Honestly, these people have worked for you for over eighteen months and yet you persist on underestimating them."

Drake looked suitably chastised for Nechayev to continue, "You probably have the most capable, most proficient, the… deadliest covert action team in the Alpha Quadrant. Don't ever confuse them with the average agent. The day you do, that'll be the day you lose them, down to the last sentient."

Drake nervously reached for her coffee and drank it in uncomfortable silence. Nechayev broke the silence with a sigh, "I really do suppose we'd ought to return this office to its rightful owner, either that or start disembarking liberty watches from the _Sovereign_."

"Why not do both?" Drake suggested, "That followed by a security patrol of the DMZ would allow us to monitor both the local situation as well as the progress of the _Solstice _and her crew."

Nechayev brightened, "Brilliant! I knew there was a reason I took you under my wing, Amanda."

_Could've fooled me, _Drake thought bitterly, reflecting on the tone of her discussion with her mentor.


	5. Chapter 5

82

Aboard the _Solstice_, Macen addressed the crew in the briefing room. None of them were very happy to be there, Kort least of all. They'd had to inject him with a metabolic booster in order to sober him up. Now he sat in his seat, twitching, and with eyes darting to and fro.

Not that there was much room to twitch in. The space had been designed to fit all six officers of a twenty-two man crew. Macen and company currently made up nine. During a mission, the briefings were staggered for one half of the crew at a time. At port, it was better to be uncomfortable for a time than inefficient.

Macen explained about the kidnapping of the President's daughter, a certain Daphnia Abrams, by renegade Starfleet Special Forces units commanded by Commodore Gideon Weisz. Next he revealed the continued survival of Tom Riker. He played Riker's distress call for them and waited for reactions.

"It's been, what, six months?" Grace asked, "What've they been doing to him?"

Macen noticed Kirk wincing and opted to downplay the worst possible aspects of Riker's captivity, "He's alive, Hannah. That's more than we knew yesterday."

"Why are just sitting here talking?" Kirk erupted, "Let's rescue Tom and deal with the bastards that've done this."

"Easy, Jamie." Macen counselled, "We'll rescue Tom. It just so happens we'll have to face Weisz and his goons at the same time."

"What do you mean?" Daggit asked from his standing position behind the others.

"The Special Forces troopers Tom mentioned guarding the place are believed to be bar Weisz's troops. They're the only Special Forces operatives unaccounted for."

"So Commodore Weisz found a natural ally in whomever is holding Tom Riker." Daggit observed.

Macen nodded, "So it would appear." With that said, the conversation died down.

"So what do we do first?" Dracas prompted.

"You get the engines ready. We've a long journey ahead of us. Take on whatever fuel we'll need." Macen ordered, "Next we need all the information we can gather about our destination in order to narrower the search down."

"Pardon me for asking," Danan asked in a dry tone, "but where is our destination?"

"Sector 437." Macen answered.

"Out past the Black Cluster?" Danan asked, "That area is unclaimed and borders on Breen territory."

"You're the stellar cartographer." Macen replied, "Tell us what you know of that region."

"Next to nothing." Danan admitted, "All of Starfleet's imaging and sensor arrays along the Cardassian border were destroyed over a successive period. Our capabilities near the Black Cluster are currently very limited."

"So, you can't provide any useful tactical or strategic data." Macen pronounced grimly.

"That about sums it up." Danan concurred then added, "I can say this, Sector 437 is composed of thirty-nine star systems. Finding whatever installation they're holding Tom and the President's daughter at is going to be the proverbial search for the _chyllic_ in the tide pool."

Macen gave Danan a blank stare. It continued until T'Kir tentatively spoke up. The fact that she was tentative was the strange bit in that equation. Normally T'Kir was amongst the most vocal and outspoken members of the team.

"Brin? I might have a solution."

Sensing T'Kir's discomfort, Macen excused everyone else to the bridge while he and T'Kir remained behind to talk, "Okay T'Kir, What's on your mind?"

"I know some representatives of a race that has widely travelled the Alpha Quadrant. More widely than us, anyway." T'Kir informed him, "I could contact them and arrange a meet for an exchange."

"What would we exchange for?"

"Survey maps of Sector 437."

"What would we exchange with?"

"I'm sure I could find something suitable."

"On this short of notice?"

"Bajor _is _just a few light minutes away." She said with a coy smile.

"All right then. Contact your...?"

"Sakarians."

"Your Sakarians and I'll get everyone else moving."

* * *

Macen exited the briefing room to find everyone else milling about on the bridge, "Chief!"

"Yes sir!" Dracas roused himself from the Ops station.

""You're in charge of the reprovisioning. Assess every need this tub has and address it."

"Aye, sir."

"The rest of you, do what he tells you. I'll be in the briefing room."

The door closed behind Macen and Radil remarked, "I'll bet they're snogging."

"'Snogging'?" Grace exclaimed, "Get a new universal translator. People 'make out', they do not 'snog'."

"I'll be sure to tell the Captain the comm badge he gave me is defective."

"Oops." Grace turned bright scarlet.

* * *

Tom Riker slowly recuperated in his cell and reflected on how he'd ended up in his current predicament. He'd been badly, if not mortally, injured on the bridge of the _Eclipse_ when the rest of the team had been mysteriously, and miraculously, beamed off the ship. That was fine for them but it still left him in a spot of trouble. Fortunately, his miracle arrived a few seconds later.

He too was beamed off the doomed _Eclipse_. He lay on a biobed behind a forcefield in a ship of unknown design. An older man with hard features stood beyond the forcefield, studying Riker. Although the mysterious gentleman wore a Starfleet comm badge that Tom could recognise, his uniform was unknown. It consisted of a black jacket, grey tunic, black pants and boots.

"Who are you?" Riker croaked through the pain.

"That really doesn't matter, now does it?" the man replied with a fierce smile, "All that matters is that I am the captain of this rather remarkable vessel. You may address me as 'Captain'."

"Well Captain, am I going to live?" Riker inquired, "When my friends were extracted and I wasn't, well I had my doubts."

"The automated medical systems are tending to your vital needs for now. Anything more drastic can be addressed when we arrive at our destination." The Captain explained, "As far as your survival, originally you were considered expendable. Sorry, but that's the God's honest truth."

"I see." Riker replied through gritted teeth, "And what changed your mind?"

"Two things: the final scan records of the _Slipstream_ gave us more details regarding your unique quantum signature and secondly, Brin Macen destroyed the _Slipstream _in response to your perceived death. There was an old and bitter rivalry between the two commanders. Macen made the ultimate choice and opted to eliminate the entire starship and crew. Macen and his team, with their usual good fortune, travelled back to _Deep Space 9 _and arranged passage to Earth."

"How can you be talking about this like it's the past?" Riker asked, "Macen and the team just left the _Eclipse _a few moments ago."

The Captain's smile hardened, "You'll hate yourself for asking that question Tom. You see, this is a timeship. I was sent back to retrieve you before you died and deliver you to one of our facilities."

"What kind of facility?" Tom had a sick feeling in his stomach.

"Research." The Captain answered, "We, and our allies, want to know what put you together, and if that accident can be duplicated."

"Suppose I help for awhile." Riker wondered, "out of gratitude for your help. When could I go home?"

The Captain's smile almost looked human, "Remember what I said about that question? Now that you know what no one's supposed to know, you're with us forever."

If Riker had been able to move he would have futilely thrown himself against the forcefield. He did, however, struggle against the stasis bonds that held him in place on the bed. All he truly accomplished was the rending of already broken bones and torn flesh. A cry of agony escaped his lips and he ceased his resistance. The Captain shook his head.

"Valiant but your fate is sealed. Accept it and be done." With that said he turned from the ship's minuscule medbay and returned to the cockpit.

Riker was left to wonder as to his fate while the ship's highly advanced automatic doctor treated him. You had all the advantages of a holodoc without the quirks of a personality matrix. His wounds were tended and healed by the time the Captain announced they'd reached their destination. The stasis fields were released and Riker reared up to his full height.

"Are you going to drop the forcefield so we can beam down together?" Riker asked with a feral hunger.

The Captain's cruel smile diminished Tom's hopes, "No need to. You're going down alone laddie buck."

With that said, a transporter beam gripped Tom and his reality blurred into a halo of light only to be replaced by a new reality. Tom found himself standing a central, triangular space surrounded by what appeared to be scientific laboratories. Corridors ran between the labs, leading to this space. Riker also found himself sharing this central space.

Three black garbed human males awaited him. Each wielded a planetary constabulary's stun baton, surrounded him. They stood poised, as though he might attempt to flee. As it was, Tom was calculating his odds of taking all three down. Then a fourth man emerged from one of the three labs. He was slight of stature and build yet carried himself with an obvious air of authority. He also wore a uniform identical to that of the Captain.

"Greetings, Tom." The sandy haired man said affably, "My name is Jason. I hope we can accomplish great things together. I know we can if we co-operate with one another."

"As I told 'the Captain', I'm more than willing to help you people out for a spell."

Jason smiled, "Then I'm certain we can reach an accommodation."

"But," Tom continued as though he'd never been interrupted, "I'll eventually need to get on with my life."

"There's where it gets sticky." Jason sighed, "You've seen a vital piece of technology. A technology that isn't supposed to exist."

"And as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't exist."

Jason shook his head, "Not good enough. How would we explain your miraculous resurrection? Out there, you've been dead for three weeks. That won't be easy to explain."

"I don't see a problem with it. I was found adrift in a lifepod and brought here for medical assistance. No one need know a thing." Riker contested.

"No." Jason shook his head, "My Director has ordered that you remain here until we can unlock the secrets of your origins to the satisfaction of our allies."

"Bullshit!" Riker snarled and rushed one of the baton wielders. Caught unawares, Riker was able to deliver a crushing blow to the man's nose with his elbow. He lifted the baton and applied the end of it to the stricken man at his knees. The micro-phaser blast immediately knocked him out and Riker whirled around to face his next opponent.

The next man came at Riker, swinging the baton like a sword. Tom blocked the blow and then sidestepped and spun on his heel. His opponent lurched past and Riker took a swing at him but just missed him. The third man moved in behind Tom and thrust forward just as the second man recovered and also made a thrusting attack. Riker merely stepped back out of the way and watched them stun each other.

Jason stood alone, clapping, "Impressive, especially considering your recent injuries and probable stiffness resulting from your confinement."

Jason's smile turned feral, "Now you just have me between you and freedom. Come and take it."

Although his skirmish with the three guards had been brief, Tom was slightly winded by it. Jason, on the other hand, was fresh and energetic. He may have counted on that factor for victory. Tom snorted derisively at any equation that didn't factor in his absolute determination to escape from this prison.

Riker thrust forward in a jab. Jason sidestepped the baton and took hold of Riker's wrist. He bent it in on itself and maintained the pressure until the pain caused Tom to release the baton. He shook his wrist loose and took a classic boxer's jab at Jason. The smaller man blocked it with an equally classic martial arts block.

Riker, who'd studied a broad spectrum of martial arts at the Academy, switched forms to match Jason. He jabbed, chopped, punched and kicked all to no avail. The smaller man was devilishly fast. Although Riker held the advantage in brute strength, Jason's agility made him a formidable opponent. Still, slowly but slowly, Riker backed Jason down towards one of the mysterious corridors.

A sudden blow to the side of Tom's head from a perfectly executed wheel kick brought him to his knees. Jason walked over to the stun baton he'd stripped from Riker, bent to retrieve it, and then returned to where Tom knelt, trying to regain his senses.

"Sorry," Jason said with what sounded like sincerity, "I'd hoped this would go smoothly but you chose your path. Hopefully things will settle down from now on."

That said, he applied the baton to Tom and Riker knew nothing else until he awoke in a gilded cell stripped of his clothes and wearing medical smocks. At first, he had exercise privileges escorted walks of the facility. These disappeared, as did his clothing, as punishments over his continued resistance to assisting the base's researchers in their efforts. Those efforts were simple: to replicate Tom. They wanted to create a transporter duplication device in order to circumvent the degradation factors inherent in cloning.

A person named Arinae was guiding these efforts. He had yet to encounter this mystery Director. He'd been surprised by the arrival of the Starfleet Special Forces units. Riker had initially feared this represented an official sanctioning of his treatment by Starfleet. His concerns were soon laid to rest as he overheard several officers arguing with Jason regarding his handling of Riker.

All of Riker's hopes lay in the message he'd managed to transmit. He had clues as to his location. The base that currently held him was a classic example of Cardassian architecture and design. If so, there were newly constructed listening posts along the Cardassian border. Although the Federation was supporting the newly installed democratic government on Cardassia Prime, democracy had historically had a short half-life in the Cardassian Union.

At one point, Riker would have accepted a rescue effort from any Starfleet starship. The presence of the Special Forces cast doubt as to the reliability of help from amongst the general personnel of Starfleet. Riker's last true hope lay in the message being relayed to the SID and through them to Brin Macen. Brin Macen had already tried to come to Riker's aid once on the past. Despite orders to the contrary, Macen undertook a rescue operation to extract Riker from the Cardassian labour camp he was assigned to.

Although Macen had only been peripherally involved in the planning stages of Tom's fateful mission, he still felt duty bound to make the ultimately futile attempt. He'd barely survived the effort.

Riker had no fears as to his commander's ability to extract him from this hellhole. Macen had learned much over the course of the Maquis Rebellion and the Dominion War. He'd learned more as the commander of a SID team. Add his implacable determination to the mix and one had one hell of an ally...or foe.

They couldn't strip hope from Tom Riker. Hope is what had allowed him to endure all those years on Nervala IV. Hope is what had led him to find a life for himself with the Maquis. Hope insured that he endured the cruelties of the labour camp. In every case, after some fashion, his hope had paid off. Now he was relying on hope again and waiting to see what would come.

* * *

"Just what the hell is going on?" Ro demanded.

Macen merely raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, "I see discretion has become your new middle name, Laren."

"Hah! Bajorans don't have middle names." Ro snorted, "And as far as discretion goes, _you're _the one that chose Quark's for this meeting."

"I'd hoped for a quiet dinner with an old friend while we talked some shop." Macen replied and started to rise, "If that's too much for you…"

"Sit down." Ro growled, she hesitated then sighed in defeat, "All right you win. Just answer two questions. One, why is your engineer requisitioning enough deuterium and antimatter to power two ships with your specs? And two, why has he ordered enough powerpacks to phaser a small moon into submission?"

Macen shrugged, "We're going on a trip and it could get a little rough."

Ro's sigh deepened, "That's what I was afraid of. Would this trip have anything to do with the recent visit by the Directors of Starfleet Intelligence and the SID?"

"Nope." Macen replied with a blank expression.

"Dammit!" Ro cursed, "You're hiding something, which means you're trying to protect me. I'm a big girl, Brin Macen, I've been around the quadrant a time or two."

"Trust me, Laren." Macen assured her, "I haven't been assigned the case."

"Which means you're doing it on your own." Ro shook her head, "You are the most obstinate jack-ass I've ever met."

Macen broke into a wry half-grin, "Why, thank you."

"You're welcome." Ro sat back and crossed her arms, "So what did you need to know?"

"You have access to the latest Cardassian fleet movements." Macen told her, "I need to know which ship is where and their patrol routes."

"Oh Prophets," Ro pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, "You're going to start a war, aren't you?"

"Actually, this information could prevent an interstellar incident from occurring."

"How comforting." Ro replied with gallows humour, "How soon do you need this information?"

"Our departure slot is in four hours." Macen smiled, "Plenty of time to have dinner. My treat."

"Damn straight it is." Ro mumbled, "Could you at least tell me why this is so important to you?"

"Tom Riker is still alive." Macen revealed, eyes ablaze, "I'm going to rescue him."

Ro's face fell then she recovered, "I guess I'll be getting you that information after all."

* * *

Once dinner was finished, Macen returned to the _Solstice_. Dracas had most of the team busy with the cargo transfers going into the storage bays on Deck 3. Conspicuously absent were Grace and T'Kir. T'Kir was awaiting word from the Sakarians. He had no idea what Grace was up to. The ship had little need of a pilot while moored to the station.

When he arrived at the bridge, he found Grace and T'Kir at their consoles. Grace was linked to the station's computers and was downloading every available Cardassian star chart and navigational guide. Macen came to stand between them and addressed Grace first.

"Hannah, I'm surprised to find you here."

"Yeah," she replied bitterly, "I'm a little surprised myself."

"What am I missing?" Macen wondered aloud.

"Chief 'I'm so high and mighty' Dracas won't allow Grace to help out down below." T'Kir sniped.

"Why?" Macen reflexively asked then scrunched his eyes shut, "No. Wait. Let me guess: because you recently revealed you're a Kelvan."

"And because of that, I'm no longer trustworthy." Grace finished the thought.

"Right." Macen growled, "I'll deal with it. That man is just going to have to learn that his life would be better if he started putting faith in people."

T'Kir snorted.

"What's your deal?" Macen asked.

"You." T'Kir replied with great amusement, "Giving lectures on trust."

"And your point is?"

"You don't trust anyone." she accused.

"And I've lived a long time because of it."

T'Kir buried her face in her hands.

Macen rolled his eyes, "Have you at least received word from your contacts?"

T'Kir lifted her head, "Yes, a group I know were foraging in the DMZ. They're willing to meet us in the Badlands. I said Athos IV would be acceptable."

Macen had stiffened at the mention of the planet's name but he forced himself to relax, "Good work."

"Oh, and Brin," T'Kir wore a strange expression, "the Sakarians are a non-humanoid species. It'd probably be best if we minimise contact between the crews."

Macen shrugged, "Fine. You know best." With that said, he headed for the turbolift.

"Where are you headed?" T'Kir asked.

"To have a chat with the Chief." Macen replied as the turbolift doors began to close on him.

* * *

Macen found Dracas double-checking cargo manifests. The rest of the crew had just finished their labours and been sent away to rest while they could. Life would get interesting again a few hours.

"Chief, could I have a moment?"

Dracas sat his padd aside, "Certainly."

"I just had a chat with Hannah." Macen explained, "She says you wouldn't allow her to assist in taking on the supplies."

"That's right." Dracas replied firmly, "Want to know why?"

"Try me."

"That girl's a menace. She's consistently lied about her identity and her allegiances. On the bridge, she's well placed enough to kill us all. I'm not going to double my risks by giving her unrestricted access to antimatter and weaponry."

"Plenty of people on this boat have secrets, yourself included." Macen pointed out, as Dracas blanched, "Hannah hasn't done anything to threaten the lives or security of any member of this team. When that day comes, _then_ I'll take issue with her."

Macen drew himself up and glowered at Dracas, "Until then, I want every member of this team to treat his or her teammates in a professional manner. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Dracas said weakly.

"I said is that understood, Chief?" Macen raised his voice.

"Yes sir!" Dracas practically shouted.

Macen smiled, "Good. Trust is a good thing, Chief. You should try it sometime."

Dracas bit back the obvious retort as he watched Macen's departing back. He fretted and wondered, _Gods, what does he know?_


	6. Chapter 6

103

The departure from _DS9_ went smoothly. The ship's second watch took over to grant the 1st watch a few hours of rest before the excitement began.

Macen and T'Kir were in their quarters talking when the intercom chimed. Macen pressed the comm panel's "Answer/Receive" button. Grace's voice came over the circuit.

"I just returned to the bridge after my rest period and have determined our ETA to the Badlands at one hour."

"Thanks Hannah. We'll be up in a minute." With that said, he killed the circuit.

Just prior to the call, T'Kir had just finished dressing after a shower and found Macen staring at a holopicture of their old Maquis cell, all gathered together under the belly of the _Ju'day_-class raider, the _SS Indomitable_. Other pictures on the nightstand included a picture of Ro Laren in her new Starfleet Security uniform and one of the SID team taken at their base of operations on Barrinor. Tom Riker was featured in the SID picture.

"You miss them." T'Kir said leaning over the bed to gaze upon the holo he held, "The old members of our cell."

He nodded, "They became like a family. A dysfunctional one at best, but a family."

"You've got a family here." T'Kir suggested.

"What we have here is a _team_." Macen replied, "There's a difference. A family, for all its differences, is driven forward toward a common goal while retaining individual goals. A team gathers together for the common goal and excludes itself from all other purposes."

"Which d'you prefer?"

Macen shrugged, "A team is more effective. A family is more...comfortable."

"I think we have both." T'Kir informed him.

Really?" he sounded doubtful, "What makes you think that?"

She pointed to her temple, rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, "I'm the mental vacuum cleaner remember. You think it, I suck it into my brainpan. Trust me, these people think of this unit as a family. A dysfunctional one at best, but a family."

Macen smiled at having his own words used against him, "Have you noticed that the two people that you're the closest to are the very people you can't easily 'read'?"

"I think that was the first thing that drew me to you back in the day. My attraction to you just grew as I got to know you."

"It grew so much, you tried to kill me." He reminded her.

T'Kir sighed, "For the thousandth time, I was outta my head. A Vulcan in a jealous rage is dangerous enough, add to that the fact I was reading and being swayed by the thoughts of everyone on the bridge and you've got trouble."

"I know it." Macen told her, "I also know it doesn't bother me. If it did, you wouldn't be in that bed."

She laughed, "I don't know, I'm awfully seductive."

"Not that seductive." He said dryly, "I resisted your charms when you were doing you're best to snare me. I'm sure I could keep restraining myself."

"Hmmmph!" she replied dismissively, "You wanted to. I saw that clearly enough."

"How?" he asked, "You can barely scratch the surface of my thoughts. How could you get this inescapable insight?"

"I can't read your mind, but Lees' thoughts are an open book to me." T'Kir revealed, "She knows you better than you might think. She knew what was on your mind, and that your relationship with her was doomed. She accepted the turn of events and when helped sort things out when I finally called her to discuss matters."

"Plotting behind my back, eh?" he asked only half teasingly.

"Something like that." She replied with a coy, half smile, "Anyway, the consensus was that I should wait and let you reconcile your feelings on the matter. Once you decided how you wanted to proceed, I'd follow your lead."

"That must have been hard."

"Hardest thing I've ever had t'do in my life." T'Kir confessed, "I hate waiting and to make matters worse it was waiting to see if I'd get the thing I wanted more than anything else in the universe. That's trying."

"Well," Macen said thoughtfully, "you have what you wanted. I'm yours, mind body and soul. How do you feel about that?"

"Overwhelmed." T'Kir admitted then embraced Macen. They exchanged a fiery kiss that lasted for several minutes. This was followed by whispered intimacies. Finally, the moment they'd avoided came.

"Remember to put on your "just had sex" face." T'Kir said as they readied themselves to leave their shared quarters, "The crew will have expected us to have had sex and will be counting on it."

"We did have sex." Macen said with a disgruntled tone.

"See?" T'Kir pushed him through the doorway and towards the turbolift, "It should be easy then."

"You're insane, woman."

"That's why you love me."

"You have a point."

* * *

Macen and T'Kir stepped out of the turbolift to find Daggit, Grace, and Danan watching them. They all exchanged knowing smiles.

"What?" Macen asked even as T'Kir simply proceeded to the Ops station and sat down.

"Nothing, sir." Daggit replied, "You just seem...exceptionally well rested."

"Whatever that means." Macen retorted and took his seat, "Hannah, what's our present ETA?"

"Our ETA to the Badlands is now forty-five minutes." Grace answered, "Our destination ETA is still over four days away."

"Damn." Macen muttered, "There's still no way of speeding things up?"

"We have to drop out of maximum warp after twelve hours or the stress factors will wear the engine out in a matter of hours. By dropping to a cruising speed of warp six and resuming max warp twelve hours later, we can balance out the wear factors with some maintenance." Grace reminded him.

"And fortunately we have an assistant for the Chief." Macen observed

"Yes," Danan remarked dryly, "it is _fortunate _that our recent recruit from a technologically backward world grasps our tech base so easily."

Macen sighed. They'd covered this ground before, "Lees, she's used to duotronics. That's one step away from isolinear technology."

"One step backwards." Danan argued, "How can she possibly make the leap forward as fast as she has unless she's dealt with isolinear tech before?"

"She probably has." Macen admitted, "During my interview with her she confessed that the Iotians had once again broken Starfleet's encryption protocols and were searching for new technology with which to upgrade their own Starfleet."

"And you're just now mentioning this?" Danan asked angrily.

"Admiral Drake was informed. I felt it was best to leave it at that."

"I'm your acting 1st Officer. You should have told me."

Macen's head bobbed slightly, "I'll make a note of it and try to be more circumspect in the future."

"Circumspect?" Danan's voice rose as her temper flared, "You've always made unilateral decisions. That's your style. But now it's almost a compulsion and its going to get someone killed. We thought it already had, thank the Pools, we were wrong."

"So Tom's apparent death was my fault." Macen's voice went very brittle and cold.

Danan realised what line she'd crossed and backpedalled, "The 'death' itself wasn't. That was Section 31. But we might have avoided the conflict with the Omicrons if you'd solicited other opinions. You tend to think of the universe in terms of conflict. That isn't always the case and you used to know it once."

"I know it's not all a damned conflict!" Macen snapped, "But a lot of it is. Take this operation for example, d'you seriously think Tom's captors are going to simply hand him over? That's not going to happen. We're going to have to go in, hard and fast, and take him back. That's my reality and it's the one we'll have to live by until I see evidence to the contrary."

Danan shook her head, "How did we end up here?"

Macen sighed, "It started with you complaining about my decision to bring Kirk aboard. Just what is your objection to her presence anyway?"

Now Danan sighed, "It had to do with the fact that it was another unilateral decision on your part. None of the rest of us even got to speak with her and she was suddenly a member of the team. I felt her potential teammates should have a greater role in approving her application." Danan shrugged, "That and I've never received a straight answer as to why she's now part of the team."

"She's a nexus of probabilities." Macen explained, "Potentialities converge around her. This is where she belongs until her path is made clear."

"This is more of that 'Currents' stuff, right? El-Aurian abilities to see fluxes in the space/time continuum and all that?"

"Yup."

"I thought you couldn't do that any more."

"My sensitivity is greatly diminished but my abilities are still there."

Danan threw her hands in the air, "Why didn't you say so in the first place. Then we could avoided all of this fighting." With that said, Danan strode off to the turbolift and vacated the bridge.

"And you said this wasn't a family." T'Kir teased.

Macen sat down, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose and thought, _Why me?_

"Hey!" T'Kir protested, "I heard that."

Not for the first time did Macen begrudge the telepathic link he shared with T'Kir. It allowed her to eavesdrop on his thoughts far more often than in the past. _Also, _he mused, _life had been a lot simpler when Danan and T'Kir had hated each other's guts._

"Well, Hannah, are you up for a challenge?" Macen asked with a grin. He stood with one foot propped up on the rising body of the helm console.

"Looking forward to it." She said with a hungry gleam in her eye.

"Glad to hear it." He kicked off from her console and returned to his centre seat, "Take us in at your discretion."

Danan had returned to the bridge and was watching the viewer from the upper deck, transfixed by the hellscape stretched before them.

"So many memories." She murmured.

"It's like coming home." T'Kir remarked.

Grace's hands flew over her controls and the _Solstice _surged forward. There was a minor shudder as Grace adjusted for plasma fuelled turbulence. She threw the ship into a starboard leaning arc to avoid a plasma funnel. The funnel was attracted to their plasma based impulse engines and followed them for several seconds.

Clear of the funnel, she flew between the "floor" and "ceiling" of solid plasma. Another funnel loomed and she opted to go to port this time. Just for fun, she threw in a barrel roll. Grace was tempted to notch up her speed but wasn't certain how the rest of the crew would take it.

"Get ready to adjust course for our destination." Macen reminded.

"I can't believe there's a planet out here, much less a Class-M world." Grace admitted.

"There's entire solar systems if you know where to look." T'Kir informed her, "And fortunately, we do."

"Just what type of world is this Athos IV anyway?" Grace asked.

"The type you visit when you're desperate." Macen said and then diverted his attention to one of his display panels.

Grace looked towards T'Kir for help but only received a shrug, "I've never been on the surface. I was too...erratic and got stuck left aboard while the rest of the _Odyssey's_ officers beamed down "

"Why the terse silence then?"

T'Kir sighed, "Athos IV was the site of the Maquis' last stand against the Dominion. Hundreds fought, a mere handful survived. It's not a place I look forwards to visiting."

"Oh." Grace said with sudden insight, "Gotcha."

"Probably not," T'Kir told her friend with infinite sadness, "but thanks for trying."

Grace was about to remind her friend that she came from a dying race desperately searching the universe for a home but opted not to. Although she hadn't been here during those final moments, T'Kir carried a great deal of pain over what had transpired. Grace noted it from Macen and Danan as well. She surmised that every surviving Maquis carried that same burden of survivor's guilt. Grace only hoped that visiting the surface of this world would prove cathartic in some way.

"We're in standard orbit over Athos IV." Grace announced, "What's next?"

"Now we go down and meet these mysterious Sakarians." Macen said, rising from his seat.

T'Kir rose as well, "As the only one here that's ever met a Sakarian, I think I should handle the mission."

"Fine." Macen shrugged, "You handle the diplomacy. I'll just be there as back-up."

"Brin, I think I should handle this alone."

"I just want to expand my horizons a little. The Sakarians are from the Beta Quadrant. How often are you going to get the chance to meet one?" Macen insisted

"Is this because you don't trust me?" she shot him a scathing look.

"I trust you!" he assured her, "It's that I rarely get to meet a new species, especially a non-humanoid one at that."

T'Kir shook her head and moved for the turbolift, "You are not going to enjoy this."

"We'll just see about that." He said with a confident smile.

* * *

Macen and T'Kir materialised in a fog filled tunnel that connected some of the various caverns littering Athos IV. T'Kir pulled her tricorder from her belt and took a reading.

"Well?" Macen asked, arms akimbo

"It's hard to be certain because of all the kelbonite in the cavern walls, but it looks like Arod is about to appear."

"Good." Macen grinned, "Then you can conclude our transaction and we can be on our way."

"Hopefully." T'Kir murmured

Soon a soft shuffling noise could be heard. This was followed by an indefinite shape in the fog. The shape approached and the fog began to lift. The fog cleared and Macen ripped his phaser out of its holster.

Arod was an arachnid roughly the size of a small pony. He wore a vocoder/universal translator strapped to his head, just behind his fangs and mouth organs. His first two forelimbs possessed true hands with two fingers and a thumb. His body was covered in thick, grey hair and his multi-faceted eyes warily watched Macen.

T'Kir began to take a step forward but was blocked by Macen. He advanced toward the Sakarian wielding his phaser in a two handed Weaver stance. Arod began to shuffle forward. Macen fired, missing the Sakarian by mere millimetres.

"Halt." Macen commanded. Arod froze. Macen thumbed up the power level of his phaser, "Can you understand me?"

"Brin?" T'Kir interrupted.

"Yes." Came the Sakarians synthesised "voice".

"Brin?" T'Kir repeated more forcefully.

"That was your only warning shot." Macen warned the Sakarian, "If you do not slowly turn around, I will kill you. Do you understand that?"

"Brin!" At this point, T'Kir walked up from behind Macen and placed her hand on the nerve cluster at the base of his neck and squeezed. Macen immediately went limp. She deftly caught him and lowered him gently to the ground. She did retrieve his phaser and keep it in her hands though.

"`Lo Arod. Been awhile." T'Kir said convivially, "I have to apologise about that. He's got a thing about spiders, even sentient ones."

"Yet he came to meet us?" Arod asked with some confusion.

"I, ah..." T'Kir hemmed and hawed, "I never exactly told him what type of species you were. I just mentioned that your people were non-humanoid."

"A partial truth that almost got me killed." Arod observed, "A unique way to end my life debt."

"Arod, that's ancient history. Forget about it " T'Kir insisted.

"One may be able to that in your culture, but in mine the great Webspinner reminds us of our debts and compels us to repay them." Arod said with conviction, "You saved my mates and I from extermination. We owe our lives and those of our hatchlings and of our future spawn to you."

The event Arod was referring to was an attempted survey mission by the Sakarians of the colony of Shial. Having previously encountered Vulcans, the eager arachnoids expected a cool, dispassionate response. What they received was pandemonium in the streets. These Vulcans embraced their passions, and worse yet, half the colony's population was made up of Romulan defectors.

The Romulan colonists rallied the Vulcans. They were obeying centuries of cultural imperatives to meet a threat with aggression. The unfortunate Sakarians quavered before the Romulans. They'd encountered Romulans before and these meetings had always ended with the destruction of the Sakarians.

As the Sakarians attempted to return to their ship they were cut off and surrounded. A Romulan leader emerged and demanded that the Sakarians defend their right to land upon Shial and terrify the inhabitants. They were about to be tried as terrorists by the mob. The Sakarians would have died if not for one event. A small Vulcan child stepped out of the crowd and interposed herself between the hungry, vengeful mob and the terrified arachnoids.

That child was T'Kir and she began t argue the Sakarians' case. As she debated, her mother stepped forward and joined her side and took up the debate. Finally, the Romulan leader, who'd always had a hard time debating his wife and stepdaughter, relented and began to persuade the town to not only let the creatures live but for the braver souls amongst the colonists to meet and greet them.

Honouring their traditions, Arod's clan pledged a life debt to the brave little girl that had defended them against an angry mob. Now they had an opportunity to repay a portion of that debt and they were happy to do so. Unfortunately, Macen's reaction had marred a happy reunion.

Who is he?" Arod gestured towards Macen, "Why were you compelled to bring him?"

"He's my captain." T'Kir answered, adding, "And my mate. Don't criticise him Arod. He told me the story of why he has difficulties with arachnids. I had nightmares myself after hearing the tale."

"And this was?"

"A survey team from his homeworld was dispatched to a remote forest moon. They made camp and settled in for the night and were awoken by screams. They switched on the lights to discover a member of the team encased in a web and being eaten. The trees above and around them teemed with more spiders, the size of your people or larger. Brin's people were peaceful, and had no weapons at all. Using utility knives, they fashioned crude spear and set out for their ship.

Ten started out for that ship. Two made it. As it was, one of the survivors had been bitten and died after the ship broke orbit. Brin had always been uncomfortable around spiders. Let's just say this experience left him with a full blown phobia."

"And yet you neglected to mention what type of species we were?" Arod asked indignantly, "That was very dangerous."

"I thought that if he met a sentient arachnoid, he'd take a moment to reflect and realise not every spider is a threat." T'Kir explained with a shrug, "Didn't work out that way. I'm sorry."

"Your apology is accepted T'Kir." Arod replied, "We are used to humanoids reacting as Captain Brin did. We Sakarians wish that more of our cousins had achieved sentience. Then they would be able to differentiate friend from food. It makes life so very much easier."

Seeing T'Kir's bemused smile, Arod asked, "What have I said?"

"It's not Captain Brin. Brin is his given name. His surname is Macen.

"Ah, I see. Captain Macen..._the _Captain Macen?"

"As far as I know, he's the only one." T'Kir assured him.

"By the Webspinner, Captain Macen. We have heard of this man. He is a legend. I am honoured to meet him." Arod ogled Macen a bit more.

T'Kir rolled her eyes at this bit of hero worship, "Arod, he was ready to _kill_ you."

"A simple cultural misunderstanding." Arod batted away her argument.

"Speaking of which, you do remember that this entire planet is considered a burial ground by my people?" T'Kir inquired

Arod's entire body bobbed, "Yes. We are performing rites over them as is customary to our people. Would you care to observe?'

"No." T'Kir said, her voice thick, "I trust you to it, Arod. Besides I'd better stay with Brin."

Macen groaned and T'Kir refocused, "He's coming round. It'd probably be best if you were gone by the time he comes fully alert."

"Ah, yes." Arod said and reached back with an arm and grabbed an item with his true hand, "The datapad. This details our survey of the Cardassian farside."

"Some day you'll have to tell me how your people got your hands on a Romulan cloaking device."

Arod chuckled, "The Romulans arrogantly wander into other's territory. Not every scoutship returns home."

"So are your Romulan prisoners friend or food?" T'Kir asked.

"With the history between our two kinds, I think you know the answer to that question."

"Gotcha." T'Kir nodded, "Remind me never to piss any of your people off."

Macen stirred and T'Kir waved farewell to Arod, "Take care of your family. Give `em my love."

"As you have ours, T'Kir." Arod assured her, "Until our webs cross again." With that he scuttled back from where he'd come.

T'Kir went to Macen's side and knelt beside him. His eyes fluttered open and he reached for the offended nerve cluster. He winced and rotated his neck.

"Vulcan nerve pinch?" he asked.

T'Kir nodded.

"You could've tried talking to me." Macen suggested.

"I did." T'Kir rolled her eyes, "You were in your 'take charge' mode. Besides that, you were threatening to kill our contact, a contact who's safety I'd personally vouched for."

"You've dealt with_...him_ before?"

She nodded again.

"Then why did you neglect to mention that the Sakarians are an Arachnoid species when you said they were a non-humanoid race?"

"I dunno." She admitted, "I thought that maybe dealing with a sentient spider would force you to overcome part of your phobia."

"The Federation has Arachnoid species in it as well." Macen reminded her, "All dealing with any member of them did was to get me dragged kicking and screaming from the room they were in. Immersion therapy hasn't worked before, it's unlikely it'll work now."

"Can't blame a girl for trying." She said with a faint shrug.

"Did we at least get what we came for?" Macen said with a wry grin.

T'Kir held up the datapad, "Here the info. It'll take me awhile for me to interface it with the library computer. After that's accomplished it be available for download to padds. Then the whole crew'll have access to it."

"Any idea how long that'll take?" Macen inquired.

T'Kir shook her head, "The Sakarians use a database totally unlike ours. I'll have to figure out their programming architecture in order to create a translation matrix. That could take days.

Macen grinned it looks like you know what you'll be doing for the next few days."

"Ha ha." She deadpanned, "You ready to get out of here?"

"Yup." Macen rose to his feet and rotated his neck again, "You owe me a neck message."

"As if." T'Kir retorted.

Macen sighed and activated his comm badge, "Macen to _Solstice_, two to beam up."

A moment later the familiar feeling of the transporter's energy conversion beam caught them and the world blurred.

* * *

The _Solstice _broke orbit from Athos IV and got underway. Grace dodged, weaved, ducked and "jumped" over plasma funnels. Eventually the plasma storms receded and they returned to normal space. They'd also entered the Cardassian Union. Macen ordered a course be laid in for Sector 437 and they proceeded under maximum warp. Although the Federation maintained a friendly presence in Cardassia, too many Guls in remote regions of the former empire still believed the war was underway. The crew was relying on the information provided by Ro to keep them out of harm's way.

"I've got it!" T'Kir practically shouted, "I've finally nailed down this motherless sonuva…"

"I think we've all got the picture." Macen gently laid a restraining hand on her shoulder, "How long until you have a translation?"

She shrugged, "Gimme two hours for the translation matrix and two to four for the actual interpretation."

"We'll reach the Cardassian garrison that serves as sector command out here in six hours. You might not be leaving us with much time to determine what system we want to focus our efforts on."

As soon as he'd said those words, Macen knew they'd prove inflammatory. T'Kir immediately began to get defiant. He could see the old familiar spark of her wilfulness as she rose from her station. To be fair, she'd accomplished in two days what would have potentially taken a Starfleet cyberneticist a week or more to crack. It was time to acknowledge her efforts.

"However long it takes, we'll make do." He assured her, "You've done an incredible job to get us this far this fast. No one could expect any more from you."

"They'd better not." T'Kir huffed as she plopped back down into her seat.

"No one is." He affirmed.

"Good." She growled.

Macen chose that moment to give up and go confer with Daggit.

* * *

In the end it took slightly less then two hours for the translation matrix to work its magic. T'Kir was insufferably pleased when she declared the job completed in full. She downloaded the Sakarian data files to padds for easy distribution and assimilation. Macen immediately dispatched T'Kir to distribute the padds.

He accompanied her as far as Astrometrics. Asking her to join him there when she had completed her task, he stepped into Lisea Danan's sanctum sanctorum. The Trill was so engrossed in cataloguing the passing star systems that she hadn't heard the pneumatic hiss of the compartment's doors opening and closing. Macen stealthily approached her from behind and stood there a moment before making his presence known.

"Hi, Lees." He said with a carefree grin, "What'cha doing?"

Danan spun, clutching her chest and stumbled backwards into the console she'd been studying. The console beeped in protest and the console went into its stand-by mode. Danan turned around to inspect the status of her board. When she next faced Macen, her expression was one of rage.

"Dammit Brin, that wasn't funny!" she shouted, "You nearly cost me an hour's worth of work."

Macen tried to suppress his merriment, "We will be travelling back to Federation space. We could just as easily plot our course along this vector as any other."

"But is would be more prudent to alter our return course." Danan argued, "We have the opportunity to make preliminary charts of star systems that we can only generally view at great length. We're the first Federation ship to navigate this part of space, we can't waste any opportunity to chart new territory."

"Lees, I empathise. I truly do." Macen tried to console her for what he was about to say, "But our primary mission is to rescue Tom. I consider everything else to be of secondary importance."

Danan opened her mouth to protest but then closed it to reconsider her intended words. When she spoke it was with careful deliberation, "I'd never suggest doing anything to distract us from our rescue effort."

"Good." Macen interjected before she could elaborate further, "Then you won't mind taking some time away from your surveys to help us pinpoint the most likely solar systems in sector 437 to harbour a suitable base to hold Tom."

Macen recognised the flash of irritation that passed over her face, "I'll make it an order if I have to."

There was a moment's lingering stubbornness then she apologetically acquiesced. She placed her hand on his arm, "Sorry. I don't mean to be heartless."

"If you don't mind my saying, you've been fairly distant towards the crew since rejoining the team. You offer yourself as an ersatz counsellor but you aren't availing yourself of any companionship. It's a cold, hard universe out there Lees. I don't recommend navigating it solo."

She squeezed his arm tightly, almost desperately, "Brin, I…"

At that moment the doors hissed open and T'Kir strolled in. She came up short when she took in the scene laid out before her. A clouded expression crossed over T'Kir's face as Danan hastily withdrew her hand from Macen's arm. Macen, on the other hand, was delighted by T'Kir's arrival.

"You made it in record time." He said happily, "How'd you do it?"

"Radil and Kirk were up and about despite being off duty." T'Kir answered, maintaining a wary eye on Danan; "Kirk was in Engineering for more lessons from Dracas. Radil, of course, was in Sickbay." She grinned slyly, "I think I interrupted something. Radil was definitely sporting bite marks on her neck."

"Already?" Macen was surprised, "I thought they'd keep things strictly casual for awhile yet before getting serious."

"Who says she is?" T'Kir asked.

Macen sighed, "Isn't this the sort of gossip you're supposed to share with Hannah?"

"She'll get her turn." she assured him, "Aren't you concerned with the welfare of your crew?"

"Yes." Macen conceded in a defeated tone, "But I'd also like to retain their privacy in the process."

"Not on a bucket this small, darlin'." T'Kir grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

"Thanks for the warning." He deadpanned, "Now, are you two ready to start working."

There was a silent exchange between the two women. Macen wasn't certain what was transpiring but whatever it was, Danan was receiving the short end of it. T'Kir's lips curled up in a satisfied smile and she took a seat at the nearest workstation. After a moment's hesitation, Danan joined her.

"We're ready." T'Kir called out brightly. Macen shrugged and promised himself to pry the truth behind the confrontation from T'Kir later on.


	7. Chapter 7

115

"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Danan cursed as she entered her quarters. Her quarters, like those of her teammates, were rather cramped and spartan. The _Blackbird_-class had been designed to accommodate twenty-two officers and enlisted personnel. The cabin Macen and T'Kir shared was nearly double that of the rest of the crew. No one minded since it housed a double occupancy and rank had its privileges.

_What was I thinking? _Danan berated herself, _I'm not even certain myself. One thing is certain, that mindwitch certainly knows better than I know myself. I don't know what I was doing or thinking. One thing is damned certain, I'd better figure it out fast. That telepathic warning T'Kir gave me was clear enough. _"Keep your hands to yourself, or you'll lose them." T'Kir had warned and Danan was taking heed of the admonition.

The herbal recipe T'Kir was on had vastly improved her mental stability but she was far from steady. She was still prone to unpredictable mood swings and accompanying reactions. Only Macen seemed capable of reining her in. Then again, only T'Kir seemed capable of tempering Macen. Danan dreaded the day when neither one of the pair deemed it necessary to counterbalance the other. On that day, the universe would experience a new force to be reckoned with.

_On that day, madness will rule,_ Danan thought bitterly, _and blood will flow. As far as this bloody encounter in Astrometrics, I knew damned well what I was doing. Let's face it, I let my loneliness override my common sense for a brief moment. I know Brin and I are bad for each other… so why do I still want him so bad? _

It's not going to happen and I know that. We had our chance. I've got to fix this, before T'Kir comes looking for me. I've no illusions as to who would win an encounter between us. I'll leave the bravado to Radil.

With that last thought echoing in her mind, Danan turned in for her proscribed four hours of sleep.

* * *

Macen stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge and called out, "Fates preserve all here."

Grace halted her briefing of Radil to look over at him. Radil look over her shoulder from the helm and frowned. Daggit merely observed the scene with a wry smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Macen waited for a reply then placed his arms akimbo on his hips and frowned.

"The proper reply is, 'and may the Fates save all here'."

"Sounds Bajoran." Radil commented dryly, "Substitute 'Prophets' for 'Fates' and it'd sound just right."

"To you, m'dear, _everything _sounds Bajoran." Macen observed.

That earned him a glower and Grace broke the tension by asking, "Where's Lisea? Won't she be relieving you?"

Macen broke into a half grin, "Ms. Danan recklessly whiled away the bulk of her off duty hours in the Astrometrics lab compiling survey maps of the systems we're presently travelling through. I've ordered her to get four hours sleep before reporting back to the bridge."

"Just four hours?" Radil snorted, "You're far too generous."

"I put up with your insubordination don't I?" Macen's gentle tone belied the gravity of his accusation.

Radil went white with rage and then her rage ebbed away to be replaced with a grudging acceptance, "You have me there."

"Trust me, Lees will do fine on just four hours sleep." Macen assured all present, "Heavens know we certainly got by on less in our day."

"Well, if you're set, I'll stand relieved then." Grace said to Radil.

"Be off with you." Radil laughingly growled.

"Hannah?" Macen stopped her in mid-stride, "I believe T'Kir's looking for you. She has news she's dying to share."

Grace grinned, "I just bet she has."

"Scoot, or I'll have you thrown off my bridge." Macen swivelled his chair about to face Daggit, "Well Rab, you're off-duty. Going to stick around to see how the other side lives?"

"Well, since my only engagement for the evening was trouncing you in a round of sparring, I might as well stick around." Daggit shrugged.

"Just don't stay here all 'night'." Macen warned, "I need you alert for the 1st watch."

"Yessir." Daggit replied crisply.

"Now," Macen rubbed his hands together, "for something to break the tedium."

* * *

"You should have seen her!" T'Kir fumed. She and Grace were seated in the small commissary that adjoined the recreation centre. The rec room wasn't large but it did have several electronic gaming machines as well as a billiards table and a dartboard. One corner of the rec room was set aside for three couches surrounding a large wall viewer. This was the ship's dedicated theatre system for watching cinema productions. While Grace and T'Kir shared a meal and conversation, Dracas, as was often his wont, was eating alone and watching a film.

I mean it." T'Kir emphasised more forcefully, "She was all over him."

"Having her hand on his arm doesn't qualify as 'all over' someone." Grace countered.

"I meant her thoughts were all over him, you nit!" T'Kir snapped.

"Sorry." Grace huffed. After a moment's reflection she spoke again, "I notice you're laying blame squarely on Lisea's shoulders. Is it possible that the Captain led her on, maybe without even knowing it?"

T'Kir shook her head, "We have a telepathic bond remember? Unless he intentionally tries to block me I can access all his surface thoughts. He was waaaaay too happy to see me. His only thoughts towards Lees were of concern."

"Concern?" Grace asked, puzzled.

"She's not fitting in very well with the rest of the team. She's distant and isolates herself when she's not on the bridge." T'Kir explained, "I've 'read' her. The crushing loneliness she endures is killing her. The only thing keeping her alive is her duties to the ship and crew."

"But why?" Grace, being an intimate of loneliness, demanded, "Why doesn't she reach out for help?"

"Because she believes that the only two people aboard that could help her are borderline psychotics." T'Kir answered matter-of-factly.

Grace mulled that one over for a moment then came to a conclusion, "You and the Captain?"

T'Kir nodded in the affirmative.

"But why?" Grace was truly baffled, "Why would she think you're insane? Even if she did, why wouldn't she turn to anyone else for help?"

"First off, Dear Heart, you have to admit that Brin and I tend towards some… eccentric behaviours." T'Kir wore a rueful smile as she spoke, "Conventional wisdom… and the doctors at the Andes Institute would question the finer points of my sanity."

"But you're cured." Grace protested, "The herbal concoction Captain Macen discovered dampened your telepathy. You're normal now."

T'Kir gently laughed, "Sweetie, I'll never be 'normal', nor would I choose to be. I'll always bear the weight of the psychic scars that I've earned over the years. They're a part of who I am, for good or bad. I'd like to think that it's been for more good than bad. Overall, I've turned out to be a person with a radically different perspective and outlook than your average Federation citizen. With that as my hallmark, I can do one of two things: make major contributions towards the society I'm from or, alternately, get locked away for the rest of my natural born life. They tried the latter already. Brin rescued me from that hellhole. Now I'm trying the former and if one Lisea Danan doesn't like my methods and refuses to confide in me, well screw her."

Grace pursed her lips but did not respond to T'Kir's diatribe.

"As far as why she didn't turn to the rest of you," T'Kir was very grim now, "it's very simple, she doesn't trust the lot of you. Hasn't ever, perhaps she never will."

"I thought we'd established a connection of sorts." Grace said in a low voice, "When I was 'outed'. She seemed so understanding and fair."

"That's our Lees." T'Kir laughed, "She can analyse and sympathise but she can't be bothered to truly give a damn. It made her very unpopular amongst the Maquis as well. If hadn't been for Brin, we would have treated her far differently."

"Cruelly you mean." Grace waited for a rebuttal, seeing there wasn't going to be one, she continued; "Those days and that attitude still affect you. Look at how you want to treat even though you know better than anyone what she's suffering."

"Hey, don't get me wrong." T'Kir held up her hands in surrender, "I feel for the woman. I owe her. It was her admission that led to Brin and I getting together. I'll never forget that. In a way she's responsible for one of my greatest dreams coming true. If she'd ask me for help, I'd gladly give it. I'd do just about anything but give up my relationship with Brin, and that was the demand I got from her earlier. She can go to Hell if she thinks that's going to happen."

This was a development Grace hadn't expected, "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm not going to worry about Brin for starters." T'Kir's voice held steely conviction, "You were wrong when you said that I was the only one to know the depths of her pain. I'll let you in on a little secret: El-Aurians are low level empaths. That's what makes them such a great race of Listeners. Combine that temporal probability sensing ability of theirs with their other gift of sensing emotion and you've got a species the Borg would, and have, killed for."

"Can you access the Captain's abilities?" Grace asked in rapt fascination.

"No." T'Kir said thoughtfully, as though carefully considering her words, "Not as such. When Brin senses a flux in probabilities, like when we faced the _Slipstream_, or reads a person's emotional state, I can glean his surface thoughts and get an impression of what he experiences."

"And then there's your skills and talents." Grace brought up, "Put together, I'd say you two are the ultimate intelligence operative."

T'Kir broke into a feral grin, "Ask the Romulans about that."

"I've wondered about that." Grace admitted, "Since neither you nor the Captain will talk about your experiences on either Romulus or Remus, it's become something of a game amongst the crew to speculate about what happened."

"Then I won't spoil your fun by giving it all away." T'Kir said with an impish grin.

"You're a brat, y'know that?" Grace accused, sticking out her tongue.

"Always and forever." T'Kir vowed, "So, you done with dinner?"

"Yup."

"Then I'll see you in the gym in a few minutes." T'Kir informed her, "I have something to take care of before I join you."

"All right." Grace conceded and took both their trays to the replicator for recycling.

As Grace exited the rec room, T'Kir moved over to the couch where Dracas was seated watching a movie; "All right, old man, how much did you hear?"

Dracas paused the film and shifted in his seat in order to face T'Kir, "Enough to know you have a problem."

"Really?" she said snidely, "Do tell."

"I'll disregard your impertinent manners give you some valuable advice." Dracas replied with weary patience, "First and foremost, share your concerns with Macen. He may have a tendency to overreact in combat but you have to admit the man is loyal to his troops. That trait finds its ultimate expression in those that he loves, and by all the gods, the man truly loves you."

"So what does telling him accomplish?" she shifted her weight uncomfortably.

"It guarantees you an ally in your struggle to confront Danan and convince her to seek some help."

"Would that approach work on you?" T'Kir asked pointedly.

"What do you mean?" Dracas was instantly defensive.

"Chief, you have nothing to be ashamed of or to hide." T'Kir assured him, "Despite your fears, your teammates and friends will stand by you no matter what you disclose."

"Can you guarantee that?" Dracas whispered.

"Not one hundred percent." T'Kir admitted, "But you've spent over a year earning these peoples' respect. Trust in that if nothing else."

T'Kir made to leave and Dracas stopped her, "Does Macen know?"

"His suspicions were confirmed at Magna Roma." She informed him.

"And?"

"He obviously doesn't care." T'Kir told him, "He cares about you, not about who you sleep with."

Dracas slowly nodded, "Thanks."

"Think about it, Chief." T'Kir strongly urged, "This secret is killing you. Something's gotta give."

"Again, thank you." Dracas was slightly choked up, "You've given me something to think about."

"I hope so."

Kort chose that moment to enter the rec room, "Ah, T'Kir, there you are! Daggit and Macen have abandoned me. I need a sparring partner and I need one now."

T'Kir turned to Dracas and shrugged, "Duty calls."

"Thanks for keeping my secret." Dracas said in a low voice.

"Not a problem." T'Kir smiled brightly, "Why don't you come to the gym? The movie will always be there and how often d'you get a chance to see me dump Kort on his ass?"

"You've got a point." Dracas admitted, turned off the movie and rose to follow his teammates out the door.

* * *

Riker's cell door opened and a guard appeared in the doorway. Another sentry accompanied him. The guards had come in pairs ever since his escape. The guard blocking the doorway threw a bundle of clothing at Tom. The door then slid shut.

Tom found a hygiene kit wrapped in the bundle. He trimmed his beard and brushed his teeth before dressing. He combed his unruly hair and then sat down on the cot that served as his bed. He took a moment to reflect on the articles he'd just been given.

He refused to believe that all of these privileges, which he'd lost owing to his refusal to co-operate, were suddenly being reinstated, especially this soon after his escape attempt. He hadn't even been dressed in his usual lab scrubs, these were honest to God clothes. They were a simple pants and Henley-type shirt combination but they were _clothes_.

The door slid open again and the same two Special Forces guards were there. The door blocker motioned for Riker to step out into the corridor. Tom hesitated but complied. This variation in routine had him intrigued.

Another twist came when they put wrist shackles on him. The next variation came when they proceeded away from the lab section that he was normally escorted to. Fleetingly, Tom wondered if he was being marched off to his execution. When the formation finally came to a halt, a smiling Jason reassured Riker of his continued importance to the work being done at this Enforcer base.

"You've been given a great honour." Jason assured him, "The Director has asked to see you."

"Should I be touched?" Tom sneered.

At first Jason looked confused, then his expression hardened; "The Director is worthy of great respect. Her work against the Cardassians helped our forces achieve many victories. Forget that at your peril."

"An honest threat at long last." Tom smiled, "I'm proud of you Jason. I was beginning to wonder if you had it in you."

Jason glowered at Riker and angrily punched in an access code into the door that led to the Director's office. The door slid aside with a slight squeal, like all the automatic doors in this installation. Jason motioned for Riker to step through the threshold and he did so. What he found inside surprised Tom.

Jason had once told Tom that the Director had held her post for twenty years, despite all that history, the office was bare, almost spartan. There were no holopics or knickknacks lying about. The only item in the room that wasn't strictly utilitarian was a tapestry hanging behind the desk. Whoever this Arinae was, she certainly wasn't sentimental.

The door slid aside again and the guards cleared a path to admit a young woman in her late twenties or early thirties. It took Riker a moment to digest what he was seeing. She was human, or at least appeared to be. She had a heart shaped face framed by platinum hair. Her pale hair was contrasted by her dark brows. She possessed watery blue eyes and a rounded nose. Her right arm was exposed, revealing a tattoo that stretched from her shoulder to her elbow. It was reminiscent of a thick bramble of thorns with an unidentified symbol in the centre. Her right hand was gloved while her left was bare. Tom found himself attracted to her despite his screaming instincts.

"Can I ask who you represent?" Tom asked her, "It was my understanding that Starfleet is the guest at these facilities."

"They are, Lieutenant Riker." The mystery woman replied, "We each came to this facility by entirely separate means and for different purposes."

"You mean like the Captain?" Riker inquired with a scowl, "You're from the future, like he is?"

"No." she answered with a sigh, "The good Captain and his Temporal Cold War are none of our concern. We simply exchange the occasional favour."

"Then who are you?"

She laughed, a music sound to Riker's ears, "I am Arinae. I'm Director of this Institute."

Riker paled and Arinae put a hand to his cheek, "Dear boy, you look as though you've seen a ghost."

"I think I have." Riker confessed, "Jason said you'd been in the Protectorate for at least forty years but if your looks are any judge, I'd say that's a lie."

Arinae wore an enigmatic smile that reminded Riker of something, "Let's just I'm infinitely older than you'd expect."

"I can imagine, especially if I'm right."

"About what?"

"About you're being an El-Aurian."

She smiled that mysterious smile, "I see you're well informed."

"Would you happen to know a Brin Macen?"

Arinae was visibly shaken and hoarsely whispered, "What?"

"Macen." Riker repeated, "Brin Macen. Or how about a bartender named Guinan?"

"Brin Macen." She whispered the name, tasting the sound of it on her tongue. She regained her composure and her focus, "I take it Macen and Guinan are still alive?"

Riker nodded.

"How curious." Arinae commented then turned her full attention, and considerable charms, on Tom, "How would you like lunch?"


	8. Chapter 8

128

The _Solstice_ was on approach for Kilidahn III. Kilidahn served as the local Sector HQ. The _Solstice _had penetrated the Oort Cloud and entered the outer system before being challenged by a battle damaged _Galor_-class cruiser. The 2nd watch was left at their stations for this advance towards the Cardassian installation. Despite this, all of the 1st watch appeared on the bridge.

"You might as well take the weapons, Rab." Macen ordered, "Same for you T'Kir. OPS is waiting. Hannah?"

Grace shrugged but Radil summoned her over for a relief, "You're the better pilot. If things get dicey, I want you at the helm."

Grinning like a maniac, Grace took her position. Radil took up position alongside Daggit, who leaned over and whispered, "I'll let you shoot something."

Radil replied with a crude hand gesture. Daggit grinned then turned serious as a telltale on his board lit up, "They're hailing us."

"Open a channel." Macen instructed.

Daggit activated the comm array and a sallow, long faced Cardassian appeared on the viewer. His bulbous nose and prominent chin dominated his features. He was a rather comical looking fellow despite his rather serious mien.

"I am Gul Merkel." the Cardassian commander's reedy voice was the final imposition on his dignity, "Why have you invaded our sovereign space?"

"I was under the impression that Federation traffic was now welcome in the Cardassian Union." Macen replied.

"Federation traffic is welcome in the relief zone surrounding Cardassia Prime and the border regions." Merkel sneered, "You are not authorised to be here. You will heave to and prepare to be boarded. You are being arrested on charges of either espionage or smuggling."

"Either or?" Macen asked dubiously.

"We'll arrange for a charge to fit."

Macen shook his head, "I request a meeting with the Sector commander."

Merkel chuckled, "Oh really?"

"Tell him Brin Macen is calling." Macen instructed, "I'm sure he'll fit me in."

Merkel's confidence wavered, "Stand by." The screen went dark. Several minutes passed before Daggit announced they were again being hailed.

"You are to follow me in towards Kilidahn." Merkel informed them sulkily.

"Cheer up, Merkel." Macen told him before severing the connection, "You might still get to kill us." A smiling Merkel filled the screen before it reverted to its exterior view.

"Well," Macen said cheerfully, "follow that cruiser."

"What the hell d'you mean I can't go?" T'Kir fumed.

"I need you aboard to assist Hannah in case something goes wrong." Macen explained.

"'If?'" T'Kir scoffed, "Something _always _goes wrong."

"Which is why I need you here." Macen reiterated, "I don't honestly expect the local commander to give the information we need."

"So what's the plan?"

"I distract him while you extract the pertinent files from their database."

"And you think you can keep him distracted?"

"Oh yeah," Macen broke into a rueful half-smile, "the commander and I have a certain history."

"Such as?"

"I shot him and stole his woman." Macen said nonchalantly.

T'Kir's face was expressionless.

"She was a defector, for God's sake." Macen said in exasperation, "Get over it."

T'Kir took a deep breath, "So what are you gonna do about back-up? You need someone with you to cover your ass."

"I'll be taking someone." Macen assured her, "I just need to alert them."

"Rab," T'Kir called out, "get your butt in gear."

Macen motioned for Daggit to remain where he was, "Rab's staying here."

"Radil?"

Macen shook his head.

"Then just who the _frinx_ are you taking?" T'Kir demanded.

"Jamie." his reply was innocuous.

"Jamie _Kirk_?" T'Kir asked in disbelief.

"She needs the experience." Macen replied, "Ands I think she's bored with studying."

"Well, who wouldn't be?" T'Kir huffed.

"You're cute when you fret." Macen confided.

"Oh, shut up."

Grinning, Macen turned to face Grace, "What's our ETA, Hannah?"

"Five minutes, boss."

"Hannah?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't call me 'boss'." he said sternly.

"Gotcha."

"Well," Macen clapped his hands together, "that gives me just enough time to alert Jamie and get ready. Wish me luck."

"I refuse to miss you if you get yourself killed." T'Kir informed him.

"We'll see." he remarked, "Besides, It's not gonna happen." With that said, Macen moved across the bridge and stepped into the turbolift.

After the doors closed, T'Kir whispered, "You'd better come back you big, dumb bastard."

* * *

Kirk met up with Macen in the transporter room. Dracas was there acting as the transporter chief. Kirk was checking the action of pulling her phaser from its holster.

"I know the Iotian Starfleet was an advocate of pre-emptive action, but we're here to simply talk." Macen advised her.

"Then why are we going in armed?" she asked sceptically.

"In case they don't want to." Macen delivered with a humourless smile.

Kirk's eyes flashed with anticipation.

* * *

The Sector HQ in orbit around Kilidahn was a _Jas_-class space station which predated the _Nor _type stations by at least fifty years. The station's designation was _Ellik Jas_. Whereas the more modern _Nor_-class stations were a central cylinder with overlapping and expanding habitat and cargo rings stemming from it, the _Jas _type stations were a barbell shaped cylinder. Absent were the upper and lower pylons of the _Nor_ stations. Docking was accomplished via external pylons extending directly from the hull.

The _Solstice_ was extended an invitation to put in but Danan, commanding in Macen's absence, declined. They assumed an orbital station around the station. Their escorting _Galor_-class cruiser took up position off their bow, pinning them between the ship and the station. Danan commed the transporter room.

"We're in position. Ready at your command."

"Good. Take care of everyone while I'm gone." Macen requested.

"Don't I always?" Danan replied far more glibly than she felt.

"All right, Chief. You should probably hold on here until we get back."

"Expecting trouble?" Dracas grunted.

"I happen to know the commander of this base." Macen explained, "Whether or not that's a good thing remains to be seen."

"I'll keep a constant lock on you then."

"Much appreciated." Macen and Kirk stepped up to the transport pads, "Energise."

A hand motion over the transporter controls later, they'd winked out of existence.

Macen and Kirk rematerialised in the station's commercial district. It was largely empty. It reminded Macen of _DS9_ right after the Cardassian withdrawal. The footfalls of the approaching Cardassian soldiers echoed throughout the nearly deserted corridors.

A full squad surrounded Macen and Kirk. The glinn in command broke into a nasty smile as she assessed her prisoners' chances of escape. Female officers were a rarity in the still predominantly sexist Cardassian military machine. Macen knew better than to underestimate any woman that had successfully advanced in spite of the considerable obstacles placed in her path.

"Your weapons." the glinn held out her hand.

"No." Macen replied firmly.

The glinn's smile widened, "Then we shall execute you."

Macen shook his head, "No you won't. Gul Dulcet wants to know why I'm here. He'd be… displeased if you killed me before he discovers that secret."

The glinn's smile disappeared to be replaced by a frown. Macen consoled her, "We'll surrender our weapons when we face Dulcet. You'll probably be ordered to slay us at that point anyway."

The glinn brightened and waved her disruptor down the corridor, "This way."

Dulcet's office was located in the stations Ops centre, overlooking the operations dais and the various stations surrounding it. In Macen's experience it was a design feature common to Cardassian facilities. Like the rest of the station, the Ops centre and Dulcet's office were smaller than their newer counterparts on a _Nor_-class station.

Kirk was ushered to an unused corner and left behind with two guards. The glinn and the remaining guard escorted Macen into Dulcet's office. Once inside, they disarmed him and then each of Macen's minders stepped aside to grant him a wider berth. The glinn kept her disruptor poised, anticipating Macen's imminent demise as she set his phaser down on Dulcet's desk.

Sitting behind the desk was Gul Dulcet. Dulcet was portly for a Cardassian and had been for as long as Macen had known him. His bulk disguised an iron framework of muscle. Unlike Merkel, Dulcet's face was round and flushed. Right now, that face sported a broad smile.

"Ah, my old friend Brin Macen. Tell me, what have I done to deserve you?" Dulcet asked convivially, then he picked up the phaser and examined it, "Bajoran, no?"

"You've always been gifted at asking questions you already know the answer to." Macen replied noncommittally.

Dulcet's face flushed from irritation, "Then I will ask you a question I do not know the answer to. How is my beloved Kendri?"

"Well, as of ten years ago, she was happily forging a new life for herself among the Federation's artistic community." Macen answered, "I haven't had time to follow her career thanks to the various wars since our last meeting."

"But you and she… you were… how could you abandon her?" Dulcet was baffled beyond the capacity for rational thought.

"There was nothing between us… ever." Macen assured him, "Kendri loved you. She also felt you served a corrupt and morally bankrupt government. She couldn't stay and watch you destroy yourself by serving that government nor could she sit aside and do nothing to prevent them from inflicting greater harm than they already had."

"And how could she possibly accomplish this?" Dulcet scoffed, "She was a poet. She did not have access to military or state secrets."

"Yes, she did." Macen revealed, "Through you. Your personal passwords and security measures weren't as secure as you thought."

Dulcet's eyes widened in horrified realisation, "No. It cannot be true."

"I handled her debrief myself." Macen informed him, "I know what I'm talking about. The information she was able to provide saved thousands of lives."

"And undoubtedly cost our side an equal number." Dulcet bitterly groused.

"I can't estimate those figures." Macen replied, "My goal was to ascertain the political and military ambitions motivating the Cardassian psyche. It was felt that once we understood your people more completely, we could reach an amicable accord with you."

"You have now." bitterness laced every word, "We are conquered and you are the victor."

Macen shook his head, "Doesn't work that way. The Federation wants to be an ally, a partner, with the Cardassian people. It's all they've ever wanted."

"Is that what you've wanted?"

"I don't think my wants are at issue here." Macen said guardedly.

"Oh, but they are." Dulcet picked up Macen's phaser, "A renowned agent for Starfleet Intelligence, a member of the Maquis, a decorated war hero… all of these causes and all against my people. Tell me, honestly, do you want peace between our two civilisations?"

"Honestly?" Macen hesitated, "Yes. I _want_ peace. Do I honestly expect peace to last? No. Ghemor's government may hold a slim majority for now but let's see how long this democracy lasts in the face of housing and food shortages. The medical system on Cardassia Prime has collapsed. They're exporting patients to subject worlds. Worlds that are now banding together and fomenting dissent across the Union. Soon there will be uprisings and revolutions and Starfleet will be unable to assist you in your hour of need. Personally, I don't think peace stands a chance in hell of succeeding."

"On this we are agreed." Dulcet nodded, "But your analyses have been wrong before?"

"Of course." Macen admitted, "No one's perfect."

"Or completely free of foolishness." Dulcet said, re-examining the phaser in his hands.

Macen suppressed a cold shudder that run down his spine, "Meaning?"

"Do you ever think of our last encounter?"

"Not often." Macen confessed.

"I do." Dulcet revealed, "Every day. You see, although my shoulder has been healed from where you shot it, it still aches every day." Dulcet smiled coldly and explained, "For you see, Cardassian medicine is designed strictly to restore utility to the affected body part. No analgesic considerations are factored in. We are encouraged to bear our scars proudly."

"I'll hate to see where this is going." Macen said with a sense of resignation.

"I owe you one." Dulcet's smile was ruthless now, "And I'm about to discharge my debt."

Dulcet took aim with Macen's phaser and Macen held up his hand and forcefully said, "Wait!"

Dulcet hesitated and Macen took a deep breath and plunged onward, "Haven't you ever wondered why I hit your shoulder when there's so much more of you to hit?"

Dulcet paused then inclined his head for Macen to continue, "You were losing the woman you loved. She'd broken your personal access and command codes and was delivering them to your enemy. While it was uncertain as to whether or not the High Command would ever trace the intelligence leak to you, it was a certainty they would exact a price from you for losing Kendri. My giving you a non-fatal wound assured the High Command that you'd diligently pursued us and were overpowered. You'd still be alive and Kendri could live with the knowledge you were still pursuing the career you loved albeit without her."

"Why?" Dulcet asked in shocked amazement.

"From Starfleet's perspective, Kendri would be more co-operative knowing you were alive and relatively safe from harm." Macen elaborated, "From my viewpoint, it was a professional courtesy."

"How so?"

"We were both soldiers." Macen explained, "What occurred that night went beyond the normal rules of combat. I was there to steal the woman you loved. Your response to that was a personal one, not a professional one. I stopped you so that I wouldn't have to kill you for reacting the same way I would have."

"I see." Dulcet lowered the phaser, "You've left me with a quandary. Why are you here? I know you are no longer with Starfleet so don't try and convince me that band of mercenaries travelling with you is a starship crew."

"We are privateers acting on behalf of the Federation but with out sanction from Starfleet." Macen admitted, "The mission is classified but the target is somewhere beyond the farside border."

"Do you know where?" an intrigued Dulcet asked.

"Our best analysis places it somewhere in one of these four systems." Macen removed a padd from a utility belt pouch, only to have rudely snatched away by the glinn. After examining the device, she passed it off to Dulcet's outstretched hand.

Macen continued, "Our only clue with which to determine the exact location as that our destination appears to be an abandoned Cardassian research facility."

Dulcet perused the files on the four systems and motioned for Macen to approach and retrieve the padd, "I am sorry, but I cannot help you."

"How can a peace be built between our two peoples if we cannot co-operate with one another?" Macen pressed.

"I have never said that I want peace to last." Dulcet confided, "Your arrival here violates the security of the Cardassian Union. As you once showed me a professional courtesy, I shall show you one. I will allow you on your way but I will not render any assistance that reveals past or current state secrets."

"And that's your final word on the matter?" Macen asked grimly.

"My friend, that is my _only_ word on this matter." Dulcet emphasised.

"Then can I have my gun back?"

Dulcet smiled. He picked up the phaser and examined it yet again. Finding what he was looking for, he depressed the powerpack release button and ejected the powerpack. He then flipped the phaser around and handed it to Macen. As Macen accepted the powerless weapon, Dulcet handed him the powercell. Macen holstered the phaser and dropped the powerpack in another belt pouch.

"Glinn Zyster, if Captain Macen here attempts to re-arm that weapon, you have permission to execute him." Dulcet ordered.

"Afraid for the other shoulder?" Macen mirthfully inquired.

"What about his officer?" Zyster asked.

"She'll wait upon his orders." Dulcet replied, "If he does anything other than arrange transport back to his ship…"

"Kill him?" Zyster hungrily inquired.

"Precisely." Dulcet turned to Macen, "You see, the glinn here doesn't a debt to settle with you. She's free to act with impunity."

"Joy." Macen replied sarcastically.

"Farewell Macen. May our paths never cross again." Dulcet intoned and activated the door release. The double doors to his office split apart and Zyster motioned for Macen to step through them. He did so, and descended down the steps to the Ops dais. Zyster waved her two guards closer and they pushed Kirk forward.

"Watch it, you bastards!" she snarled.

Zyster trained her disruptor on Macen as he turned around. His glare could have melted duranium. Zyster laughed at his impotence. Her focus was distracted by her merriment and Macen made his move.

He snatched the Type I "cricket" phaser from his waistband and shot Zyster in the chest. He turned to his left and felled both of Kirk's guards before they could draw their disruptors. Kirk plucked her phaser from her holster and shot the remaining guard as he was drawing a bead on Macen.

The various officers manning Ops scattered. Alarms sounded and Macen headed up the stairs towards Dulcet's office. He disrupted the door locks with a particle blast. Once inside, he aimed his phaser squarely at Dulcet.

"Your pet killer failed." Macen said coldly.

"I spared your life. She acted of her own accord." Dulcet protested.

"I'm not buying it." Macen warned him.

Dulcet made a sudden move to get around his desk and head for the weapons mounted on a display on the wall.

Macen cut his legs out from underneath him in a scything motion, "You'll live but only as a further demonstration of professional courtesy."

"Captain?" Kirk hesitantly asked, "We need to get out of here before reinforcements arrive."

As if on cue, the turbolift rose to the Ops level.

"Oh hell." Macen muttered and slapped his comm badge, "Chief, get us out of here!"


	9. Chapter 9

144

Macen and Kirk materialised on the transporter pads aboard the _Solstice_. Macen immediately slapped his comm badge and contacted the bridge, "Rab, cloak the ship! Hannah, plot us an exit vector out of this system. Head for the border and proceed at maximum warp."

Macen didn't wait for any acknowledgements of his orders. He leapt off the transporter pads and headed for the door. Dracas shook his head and sighed, "Looks like I'll be busy." he sighed as he followed Macen out into the corridor.

"Need a hand, Chief?" Kirk asked.

"Never turned down free help in my life." Dracas said with a lop-sided grin.

Macen exited the lift and stepped out into the bridge. Danan rose and surrendered the command chair.

"Status report?"

"Our situation is indefinite." Danan reported, "Although the Cardassian cruiser cannot target us, they are tracking our warp trail."

"Hannah, drop us out of warp." Macen ordered, "Alter course and return to maximum warp."

He activated a comm circuit with Dracas, "Chief, I need you to alter the warp signature of the engines."

"No problem." Dracas replied, "It'll just take a few minutes."

"Glad to hear it."

* * *

The ship slid out of subspace and Merkel's ship sped past them. Macen grinned as Grace inputted a new course, "Well, did we get the data?"

"Yup." T'Kir replied proudly, "I found our abandoned Cardassian research facility. It was right where the Sakarians estimated."

Macen shuddered at the thought of the arachnoids but brushed the more horrifying of his thoughts aside, "Transfer the co-ordinates to the helm. Hannah, set a course for the base after we cross the farside border."

"You got it." came her chipper reply.

"Lees, I need you to review the Sakarian data." Macen informed her, "Find us a place to lay low for a few hours."

"Problems?" her brow knitted.

Macen shook his head, "I just want to get everyone rested up before we waltz into harm's way.

"The Chief reports the engines are ready and our modified course has been laid in." T'Kir chimed.

"The _Galor_-class cruiser has come about and is headed in this direction." Daggit announced.

"Step on it, Hannah." Macen commanded and the _Solstice _bolted away.

* * *

Danan had gleaned the location of a marginal Class-M planetoid in orbit around a Class-J gas giant from the Sakarian database. The SID scoutship now orbited the large rock that in turn revolved around the immense protostar. Macen had relieved the crew, leaving one person on standing watch. They had a few hours to wile away before departing for the abandoned facility in the Gwentyr system.

Radil stepped into Sickbay and found it oddly quiet for this time of day. Kort usually stayed close to the infirmary while they were in action. His apparent absence was disquieting, as was the fact all the lights were turned off. Out of the corner of her eye, Radil thought she saw a flicker of movement.

Her hand dropped to the butt of her phaser even as she snarled, "Computer, lights!"

The lights snapped on to their full illumination. This elicited an unhappy grunt from the other occupant of the ship's infirmary. Radil had pulled her phaser free and had it aimed squarely at the elusive figure hiding in the corner. It took her a heartbeat to realise that it was Kort.

As he stepped back and tipped the flask to his lips and took a deep pull, she realised he was drunk. Radil holstered her sidearm with a sigh. She strode up to Kort and pulled his flask wielding arm away from his lips. Kort did a double take to focus his rather blurred vision and then he backhanded Radil.

"PetaQ!" Kort spat and took another swig.

Radil rose off of the deck and wiped the blood from her split lip. She cocked back her fist and let fly. Her punch caught the oblivious Klingon squarely on the nose. He bellowed in rage and dropped his flask.

As he blindly groped around, seeking his assailant, Radil stepped back and checked the power setting on her phaser. Adjusting it to the preferred level, she aimed fired from the hip. The particle beam struck Kort in the chest. He broke into a quizzical expression and then toppled over.

"What am I going to do with you?" she sighed despondently.

* * *

"Damn it!" Daggit exclaimed as Grace scored yet another perfect game.

"I don't why you insist on playing darts against me." Grace teased, "You know I'll win."

"I know you _might _win." Daggit corrected, "Hell, I even know you'll _probably _win but that doesn't mean I shouldn't take the chance."

"You feel that way about everything?" Grace asked as Daggit began throwing his first volley of darts.

Daggit completed his throws and went up to tally his score, "Yeah, pretty much. Why?"

"Well, does 'everything' include love?" Grace cautiously probed.

"Probably more than anything else." Daggit answered, "Except combat, of course. Love is a serious of risks. Each one can seem perilous at the time."

"So," Grace hesitated, "have you ever loved someone this way?"

"Sure." Daggit led Grace over to the rec room couches and took a seat, "Before the war, I was in love with this one woman. I thought the stars, the planets, and the moons orbited around her."

"Did she love you?" Grace was intrigued now.

"Passionately."

"So what happened?" Grace asked impatiently.

"The augmentation program and the war." Daggit revealed, "I came back and nothing was the same. She said I was haunted and violent. I heard about the order to round all of us augments up and I fled to her flat. I found an entire squad of law officers waiting for me. She'd called them to inform them that I would be coming by. I never saw her again."

"Does it make you angry?" Grace inquired.

Daggit shook his head and wore a philosophical air, "It used to make me sad. Now I know that she did what she thought she had to do. I made my choice when I enlisted in the Angosian military just as I did when I volunteered for the augmentation program."

Daggit chuckled darkly, "My choices to join Starfleet and the SID were all a result of her turning me in. My choice to remain part of the team when it went independent was also affected by her decisions and words. I don't regret any of my decisions so why should I regret hers?"

Grace studied Daggit for a moment and then slowly shook her head in amazement, "You truly are a remarkable man."

"I wouldn't go that far." Daggit protested, "I just don't see the point in holding a grudge."

"That's the amazing part." Grace informed him, "Have you ever thought about pursuing another relationship?"

"Sure."

"Possibly with a teammate?"

Daggit nodded, "It's occurred to me."

"Why haven't you done anything then?" she said with big, earnest eyes.

"Well," Daggit paused, gauging his words, "I think it's pretty obvious that Radil's affections lie with Kort."

"Oh, yeah." a crestfallen Grace replied, "Radil."

"Did you think I meant Lisea Danan?" Daggit asked, "Because she is an incredible woman."

"Oh, really?" Grace said sourly, "I hadn't noticed."

"Her multiple lifetimes of experience grant her an ability to relate to people on a scale I'd never encountered before." Daggit paused to ponder his words, "In fact it sounds as though I should be attempting to pursue her."

"Yeah, it sure does." Grace grumped

"So you think I should?" he asked with puppy-like innocence.

Grace wanted to lash out and declare her stymied intentions towards him but his endearing manner held her to a minimal amount of vitriol, "Well, why the hell not?" she manically urged.

"All right." Daggit nodded, "I think I will. Thanks Hannah. You're such a good friend."

_Friend. _Grace inwardly groaned, _Maker, just kill me now._

* * *

"Ahhhh!" Kirk cried out as she stepped out onto the bridge, "I can't take it anymore!"

Danan, startled by the outburst, looked up from the science station read-outs that she'd been studying, "Problem?"

"Just how much _frinxing _studying am I expected to do?" Kirk groaned.

Danan bestowed a reassuring smile upon her, "You can stop any time you want."

"I can?" Kirk asked with some surprise.

"Of course, silly." Danan laughed, "The test is in the main computer. You can access it anytime and take it any time you feel comfortable."

"Oh." Kirk said, unwinding a bit.

"If you'd like, you could go back to your quarters and take the entrance exam right now."

"Sounds like a plan." Kirk started to return to the lift but paused, "Are you all right here?"

Danan waved her concerns aside, "I'm fine. I volunteered to watch the bridge until you relieve me. I've got the bridge science station tied into the astrometrics array and I'm making star charts of the surrounding regions of space."

"And you find this interesting?" Kirk asked sceptically.

Danan beamed, "Almost more than anything."

"Sensor sweeps." Kirk muttered as she walked away, "Give me a good boarding action any day over sensor sweeps."

"Good luck." Danan called out as Kirk stepped into the lift.

"Have fun." Kirk called back and as the doors shut, she whispered, "You freak."

* * *

Dracas put the technical journal he was trying to read down. His attention was scattered and any attempt to focus was futile. The Chief rose from his bed and went to his closet. He pulled out a clean set of coveralls and put them on. Like most of the corporate supplied items aboard ship, the coveralls were Starfleet surplus. Dracas preferred the brown pairs but he also frequently used the rust coloured ones.

Dracas exited his quarters and head for engineering. He found all as he'd left it. The warp core pulsed with a strong, steady _thrum_. It soothed Dracas just as it had since the first day he'd set foot in a starship's engine room.

Dracas had left the secure confines of the SPYards in order to tend to an engine of his own. So far, he'd had three. Dracas was growing fond of the _Solstice_ and was really hoping that Macen would avoid getting the ship blown out from underneath him this time. Macen's shiphandling skills were improving but he was still, in Dracas' opinion, too inexperienced to command his own vessel.

Macen had only served aboard a starship for barely two years and even then as a science officer. His subsequent career was largely spent as a groundside covert operative and as a deskbound analyst. Even Macen's stint with the Maquis did little to build his command abilities. Macen's shipboard engagements were always fought under someone else's command.

Dracas felt absolute loyalty towards Macen. After all, Macen had come to rescue him from the clutches of renegade Starfleet officers and then seen him through the gladiatorial pits of Magna Roma. But he also felt Macen had pursued a wise course of action by bringing on Tom Riker to act as the ship's caretaker. Dracas knew that Jamie Kirk was being groomed for this same task but he wondered how the revelation of Riker's still being alive would alter these plans. Dracas liked Kirk and wanted to see her stay on with the team.

Dracas sighed. There were no pressing projects for him to work on. He detested busy work as a general principle but he also didn't like too much down time. It gave him too much opportunity to reflect.

Taking a deep breath, Dracas made a, for him, fateful decision. He tapped his comm badge and contacted Lisea Danan.

"Yeah, Chief?" Danan replied, "Can I help you?"

"I… I was wondering if you had a spare moment to talk."

"Sure, I'm just monitoring some automated cartographic scans I set up."

"I'll meet you on the bridge then with coffee and sandwiches."

"Sounds good." Danan signed off and wondered what had drawn Dracas out of his shell.

* * *

"My head." Kort groaned as he struggled to rise from the biobed.

Seated behind his desk, Radil gave him a dubious look, "Feeling better, or should I say, a little more sober?"

"What did you give me?" Kort groaned.

"Tri-ox." Radil replied, "15cc's. It helps oxygenate the blood. Sobriety is just a beneficial side effect. Doesn't do a damn thing for the hangover though."

"Tell me about it." Kort groused.

Radil strode over to Kort's position at the bed, "Hold on, let me check you over."

"What do you know of medicine?" Kort scoffed.

"I've been administering field trauma and combat remedies since I was twelve." Radil coolly informed him, "Treating drunkards after fierce engagements was just part of the standard fare."

"Is that how you think of me, as a drunkard?" Kort asked in a low voice.

"Well, let's just say your behaviour the last few days hasn't done anything to dispel that notion." Radil met his searching eyes with a level gaze, "How you choose to address the issue is up to you."

"I have disappointed you." Kort said sadly.

"Yes, you have." Radil replied honestly, "But if you think that gives you an excuse to feel sorry for yourself and crawl back into another bottle, you are deluded. We're all counting on you. _I'm_ counting on you."

She pulled her phaser free and aimed it at his head, "I'll see you dead before I let you destroy yourself. You're too good a man to go that way. You claim to be a warrior, then prove it! Fight these demons of yours and be the fighter I know you are. I'll stand by you. Together we can overcome anything."

Kort took her gun hand by the wrist and pulled her towards him. He reached up with his other hand and took her by the nape of her neck. He pulled her face in towards his. Their lips met and she melted into his arms.

"Qapla'!" Kort bared his teeth as Radil's lips curved into a contented smile, which only encouraged him to pursue matters further.

* * *

Danan heard the turbolift doors open and looked up from her displays with brimming curiosity. Dracas arrived, as promised, with coffee and sandwiches. He'd even taken the pains to provide a vegetarian offering for Danan, as was her preference. Dracas' deviation from his normal querulous nature was reason enough to suspect his motives for being here but his approach to her indicated that he was finally ready to lower his shields somewhat.

The part of her that had once been a psychologist had long worried about Dracas' antisocial behaviours. A step, any step, no matter how large or small was a positive sign.

"Thought you might appreciate this." Dracas said as he handed her a cucumber sandwich.

"I'll take that, and the coffee, with ready thanks." Danan responded.

"Not a problem." Dracas replied phlegmatically.

"So…" Danan took a sip of her coffee, "What's on your mind Chief?"

"Well, I don't know if anything…"

"Don't bullshit me, Chief." Danan warned, "I've been around longer than anyone else aboard outside of Macen. I'm seeing straight through your little denial ploy."

Dracas actually looked sheepish, "Yeah, I suppose you are."

"So, once again, what's on your mind, Chief?" Danan gently prodded.

Dracas visibly wrestled with his next move. He reached a decision with a long, forlorn sigh, "I'm not like the rest of the team."

"We're all unique in our own way." Danan assured him.

"I'm not all that unique." Dracas insisted, "Statistically speaking, 11% of the population is like me."

Danan looked bewildered, "I don't understand."

"Look, you've been both male and female." Dracas offered as an explanation, "Even now, as a woman, don't you remember what it was like to be attracted to women?"

"Yes."

"And don't you find occasionally find yourself attracted to other women?"

"Sometimes." Danan admitted.

"I feel that way all the time." Dracas said at last.

"Attracted to women?" Danan wondered aloud and then saw the look of distaste on his face, "Oh, I see."

"That's right." Dracas confirmed, "I'm a homosexual."

"And this is what keeps you apart from the others?"

"Yes." His shoulders sagged in relief at her comprehension.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why does it keep you apart?" Danan inquired, "We're all adults here. Even the Bajorans and Klingons have homosexual members of their societies. What's to separate you from the others?"

"But you're all heterosexuals." Dracas cried, "We're different."

"Not really." Danan replied, "We're all people. So far, the only one employing labels or classifying anyone is you. What are you really afraid of?"

Dracas assumed a defensive posture but that soon relaxed and he quietly, almost in a whisper, revealed, "I'm afraid they'll reject me."

"Chief, we already know you. Trust me, if we were going to reject you, it would have happened by now." Danan assured him, "Besides, look at Hannah. We've bent over backwards to accommodate that girl's revelations and I'm certain she still has a few curves left to throw at us. I'd say the odds are definitely in your favour."

"You really think so?" Dracas asked hopefully.

"Hey," Danan remarked, "the great and powerful Danan has spoken. Let what I have spoken come to pass."

"I could handle that." Dracas said.

"We all could." Danan observed.

* * *

The circumstances found Macen and T'Kir in their shared quarters. T'Kir, as was her wont, lay on the bed in the nude. She lay on her stomach and waited for Macen to conclude his ministrations in the head. As he emerged, she let loose a deep, contented sigh.

Unlike T'Kir, Macen wore cotton sweat shorts. He sat down next to her and began to trace the tattoo she had in the small of her back. Honouring her cultural heritages, she had a Romulan Imperial logo emblazoned on her lower back. She bore the Vulcan IDIC on her left arm, just below her shoulder. Her right ankle had a Maquis emblem inked into it.

"Keep that up, buster, and I may just start to get ideas." T'Kir playfully warned.

"Heavens forefend." Macen gasped in mock horror and stopped.

"Hey!" T'Kir protested, "I didn't say I didn't want to have ideas."

"For shame." Macen teasingly scolded, "What would the others think if they could hear?"

"Who gives a _frinx_?" T'Kir laughed.

"What would you say if someone broke in here right now and found you like this?"

"Same thing." T'Kir shrugged, "The only things that would change is that they'd know I have some body art and an incredibly gorgeous ass."

T'Kir craned her head around over her shoulder, "Besides, what would the crew think discovering that their captain has a mysterious sigil tattooed onto his right shoulder blade?"

"That I was corrupted by my girlfriend." Macen said deadpan.

T'Kir rolled over, propped herself up on one elbow and hit him with her free arm, "I wasn't even your girlfriend back then."

"See how seductive you were?" Macen just barely managed to keep a straight face.

"Smart ass." T'Kir accused.

Macen gave her a little bow from the waist. T'Kir quieted and her demeanour grew serious. She was deep in thought and Macen wondered if he was about to finally discover what had transpired between T'Kir and Danan earlier today.

"Hey," he said gently, "what's up?"

She pursed her lips and averted her gaze. Macen cut to the heart of the matter and asked, "What happened between you and Lees today?"

T'Kir fidgeted but remained silent until Macen pushed her, "Come on, tell me."

"She's just very confused." T'Kir explained.

"That much is obvious." Macen commented under his breath.

T'Kir responded with a reproving look, "She's convinced herself that her life will be better if you and she were to jump back into a romance."

"Is she nuts?" Macen exclaimed and jumped off the bed, "I'm not going through that again."

"I thought you two separated on good terms." T'Kir asked with some confusion.

"'Good terms' means I got to retain my sanity not my emotional security." Macen elaborated, "By the end of our relationship, she was constantly accusing me of various things. Most of them involved you. It wasn't pretty."

"Those 'things'," T'Kir latched onto that concept, "did you think about doing them for real?"

Macen turned red and rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah. I did."

"So, she did have a right to be worried."

"I wasn't going to do anything, not while she and I were together."

"You weren't really hers. I wouldn't stay either." T'Kir hesitated then probed further, "D'you ever regret that your relationship with Lisea didn't work out?"

"No." he asked with genuine horror, "I respect her, but my life is better without her being interconnected to it."

"Good." T'Kir suddenly wore a feral smile, "Because I 'told' her that if she came between us I'd kill her."

"You what?" a stunned Macen exclaimed.

"I told her I'd kill her." T'Kir answered matter-of-factly.

"You were kidding, right?" Macen said weakly.

"Nope." T'Kir firmly shook her head, "The bitch wants to come between me and my man, she's got to be prepared to pay the price."

"Great." Macen groaned.

"Hey, it won't be my _first_ option."

"Well, thank the Fates for small favours." Macen replied sourly.

"Come over here and cuddle me," T'Kir urged, "before I freeze to death."

Keeping the room at a comfortable temperature was a struggle for them. T'Kir's ancestors were desert creatures. Although Shial had been cooler than Vulcan, the inhabitants had still required thick cloaks and pants in order to survive daily life. Macen came from a temperate world whose average temperatures were similar to that of Earth's northern climes. They compromised by setting the room's controls at a temperature slightly chilly for T'Kir and slightly hot for Macen.

Their varied biologies also prevented extended cuddling. Macen would swiftly devolve into a sticky puddle of sweat while T'Kir would just be comfortable. The compromise was found in keeping blankets available on T'Kir's side of the bed and allowing Macen to sleep under just a single sheet. These were the choices that accommodated love.

"Brin," T'Kir stressed, "come to bed. Lisea got the message. I doubt we'll have any trouble from her. What she needs t'do is make a few friends amongst the crew and then get laid."

Macen grinned despite himself, "She is rather uptight, isn't she?"

"Never understood what you saw in her." T'Kir confessed, "Not when you had fun-lovin' me around."

Macen pulled the covers up around her and slid down on the bed next to her. She rotated so that she faced the opposite direction. Macen pulled her in close so that they "spooned". He playfully nuzzled at her exposed ear.

"Careful, pal. Don't start anything you can't finish."

"Duly noted." He said throatily.


	10. Chapter 10

159

"I passed!" Kirk exclaimed as she bounced onto the bridge, "I passed, I passed, I _passed_!"

Danan gave her an encouraging smile. The last few hours with Dracas had been both pleasant and revealing. After divulging his greatest secret, Dracas had continued to expose himself. He'd discussed his latent attraction to Rab Daggit and his subsequent realisation that their relationship would never be romantic.

Danan almost responded with her tale of unreciprocated allure. She opted to let the matter remain private. So long as T'Kir was around and involved with Macen's life, Danan had no intimate place in it. She'd already betrayed her innermost feelings to T'Kir and received a harsh rebuttal. It was time to merely place the past firmly behind her and move on with her life.

"So," she said to distract herself, "are you excited?"

"Damn straight!" Kirk replied boisterously, "I can finally do something around and stop being a damned passenger."

"We'll see about that." Danan laughed, infected by Kirk's enthusiasm, "I know Daggit has said you're a fair hand with a phaser and they'll need all the personnel for the extraction team that they can spare."

"Yeesss!" Kirk's fist pumped in the air.

"Have you slept at all?" Dracas inquired.

"No." Kirk replied.

"You might want to get some before you have to relieve Lisea here." Dracas suggested.

"Oh." Kirk's mouth formed a perfect "O", "I see your point."

As Jamie departed, Dracas broke into a guilty smile, "Now, where were we?"

* * *

Four hours later, Macen and T'Kir taking a break from sifting through the data they'd stolen, stepped into the rec room and headed for the meal replicators. Daggit was already there, as were Kort and Radil. Both Kort and Radil seemed to be sporting scratches and bruises they'd not had the night before. Macen made ready to make mention of this when T'Kir took hold of his forearm and gave him a significant glance.

The sight of T'Kir brought a rosy blush to Radil's cheeks. Macen decided to spare her any more discomfort and sat at a separate table. T'Kir was already launching into her breakfast when Grace arrived. Her mood looked to be as sour as Kort and Radil's was elated.

Before Macen could comment, T'Kir took hold of Grace's hand, "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Everything." Grace said heavily.

"Would it be out of place to ask what happened?" Macen spoke at last.

"No." Grace sighed, "Rab and I were playing darts and then…"

When her story ended, she concluded with, "…_and _then he started asking me for advice on who he should ask out. It was humiliating."

"Want me to scramble his brain like an Onterian omelette?" T'Kir asked fiercely.

"T'Kir!" Macen warned her sternly.

"It's okay." Grace replied sadly, "I just need to accept things and move on."

At that moment, the doors to the rec room slid open and Dracas and Danan entered. Grace's head slumped and her chin was propped up in her hand.

"There's Rab's new love interest in person." she grumped.

"_Lisea Danan_?" T'Kir exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

"Say, this could work out." Macen brightened then noticed the glares he was receiving from the other occupants of his table. "But only in the evil Mirror Universe, of course." he quickly amended.

"Better." T'Kir commented, "Any ideas of how we can turn this to our advantage?"

"One," Macen remarked sourly, "but that suggestion was kyboshed."

"Give it a rest." T'Kir said impatiently.

"Well, has anyone tried explaining Hannah's feelings to Rab?" Macen asked, "People are funny. Their interest is usually piqued by knowing someone else is interested in them."

T'Kir saw the horror in Grace's eyes and tried to calm her friend down, "It really couldn't hurt."

Grace plumbed the depths of her soul and hesitantly nodded, "All right, but someone else has to do it."

"It'd be better coming from you, Hannah." T'Kir advised.

"It's this way or not at all." Grace insisted.

"Oooo-kay." T'Kir rubbed the back of her neck, "Who d'you want to have do it?"

"Could you?" Grace asked hopefully.

T'Kir shook her head, "Daggit doesn't entirely trust me. I'm not sure I'd be the best representative for your case."

"Captain?" Grace asked desperately.

"I don't think this is covered under the 'captain-like duties' clause of my contract." Macen opined.

T'Kir gave him a measured, meaningful look and Macen sighed, "But I'll make an exception just this once."

"Thank you!" Grace ran around the table and kissed him on the cheek.

"Cut that out before people think I've gone soft." Macen grumbled, "I swear, another few days like this and I'm changing the name of this boat to the _SS Soap Opera_."

"Isn't he cute when he's being all curmudgeonly?" T'Kir asked with a sigh.

"When am I curmudgeonly?" Macen demanded.

"It does have a certain charm." Grace agreed.

"Fine." Macen took the last bite of breakfast, "Have it your way. I'll see you in the briefing room in ten minutes."

As Macen exited, T'Kir laughed, "We embarrassed him."

"By calling him cute?"

"Yup." T'Kir grinned, "Works every time."

* * *

The entire team assembled in the briefing room. It was cramped but they managed to all squeeze in. Macen sat at the head of the table, underneath the main viewer. Padds were distributed before every seat and in a stack for those standing.

Macen activated the viewer and began speaking, "Represented in the viewer is a recreation of the Gwentyr system. As you can see, the system is comprised of twenty-one planets orbiting a binary pair. Gwentyr-A possesses most of the planets. There's also two large asteroid fields to take into account. Both fields are navigation hazards and must be approached cautiously."

"The good news is we've found our target." The image on the screen shifted, "The secondary moon orbiting Gwentyr-A VI is class-M moon. The Cardassians built a research station out here, or more specifically, the Obsidian Order built a research station out here in order to pursue scientific investigations banned even by Cardassia."

"Is the facility still manned?" Daggit asked.

"Oddly enough, no." Macen replied, "The Dominion built a Jem'Hadar breeding facility here. It wasn't very large, just enough to hold the planet against a theoretical invasion force."

"That could mean thousands of Jem'Hadar." Dracas observed.

"Two things make that event unlikely. First, the base was a secret. Even the High Command didn't know about it." Macen explained, "Second, the Dominion engineers utilised the existing structure, which wasn't very large to begin with."

Seeing that the sceptics in the room weren't mollified, Macen added, "Additionally, We know that two platoons of Starfleet Special Forces personnel are operating out of the base. It is highly unlikely that they and the Jem'Hadar would be co-existing."

"True." Kort conceded, "The Jem'Hadar do not co-mingle with anyone unless commanded to by the Vorta or the Founders."

"What I want to know," T'Kir spoke up, "is how the Special Forces guys knew this base was out here? I mean, even the High Command was unaware of its presence."

"And as far as I can tell, neither was Starfleet Intelligence." Macen informed them, "No, I think we're going to have to look elsewhere for the answer. Let's think back and see if we can recall the name of a shadowy intelligence agency that answers to no one and constantly seems to have information no one else has."

"Section 31." Grace muttered darkly.

"Bingo." Macen pointed at her, "I think we've stumbled into a 31 op."

"What makes you think so?" Radil asked.

"Commodore Weisz may have planned to kidnap the President's daughter, and I do believe that was entirely his operation, but I don't think he had a safe harbour in which to stow her while he negotiated her eventual release." Macen explained, "This location provides the perfect cover, especially since it was an unknown quantity to all but a handful of Cardassian and Dominion officials."

"So how do you know so much about it?" Kirk inquired.

"The data T'Kir extracted had a hidden file embedded into. The reference materials concerning Gwendyr VI and its moons also contained the info regarding the secret base, but you needed an ultra-top secret code to access them, or a really good hacker."

T'Kir polished her nails on her jacket, "Damn I'm good."

Macen gave T'Kir a sidelong glance then resumed, "I suspect Section 31's involvement because we still don't know the extent of their contact and resource base but it appears to be, in specialised areas, far beyond anything Starfleet Intelligence has. It's also within the character of the organisation to participate in a scheme such as Weisz's if they feel the security of the Federation is threatened through inaction. The most pressing question we have at this point isn't whether or not 31 is involved, it's what they were doing at this base, if they were in fact utilising it as a base of operations."

_That _sobered the assembled group. Finally Danan broke the silence, "The though of Section 31 getting their hands on Jem'Hadar breeding tanks is… unsettling at best."

"They've come close before." Macen revealed, "Their latest attempt was foiled by _DS9's_ Julian Bashir, Ezri Dax, and Ro Laren. The mere fact that either the renegade Special Forces operatives, Section 31, or both may be employing these facilities is cause enough to look at them. It's also why you'll be part of the extraction team."

Danan blinked and pointed at herself, "Me?"

"Yes, _you_." Macen replied, "We need our scientific specialist to examine the equipment down there and determine what its been used for."

"I thought I'd be needed aboard the ship, like usual." Danan argued.

"Jamie will be in command of the _Solstice_. That makes your presence redundant." Macen countered patiently.

"Hey! I thought I'd be on the extraction team." Kirk protested.

"Not thirty minutes ago you were excitedly informing me of how you'd passed your entrance exams and proficiency tests. You've mastered the basics of 24th century technology, which were the only skills that were in question. Your leadership abilities have never been doubted. It's those skills that are most needed on this mission."

"Oh, okay." Kirk subsided.

"This'll be easier to count off those that'll be remaining aboard the ship." Macen announced, "Jamie, Hannah and the Chief will be the only crewmen remaining behind. The rest of us are going in."

Macen altered the image on the viewer again, "This is the last viable schematic of the installation and its lab facilities. This edition includes the modifications made to accommodate the Jem'Hadar birthing facilities."

"Rab," Macen singled Daggit out, "it'll take us four hours to reach Gwendyr VI. That means you have three and half hours to devise an assault plan and debrief the rest of the extraction team."

Daggit nodded, "Right."

"That's the basics behind what we we're about t'do. Any questions?" Macen closed.

There were no takers, "Everybody take your posts then. Radil, please report to Tactical to cover Rab while he fleshes out our mission plan."

"Not a problem." She said and with one final glance towards Kort positioned herself behind the appropriate console.

T'Kir held back as her teammates exited the briefing room. Macen could sense her apprehension, "What d'you think our chances are?"

"`Bout the same as they were when we were in the Maquis." Macen confessed.

"Now _that's _a comfort." T'Kir sniped.

"Well, don't ask the question if you don't want the answer." Macen advised, "This mission looked next to impossible when we merely faced Special Forces troops. If we're going up against Section 31 forces, not to mention the nightmare scenario of squaring off against Jem'Hadar, then the odds tip in the bad guys' favour."

"_Frinx_." T'Kir softly swore, "I liked the version you spun for the crew a lot better."

"Most of them haven't faced the odds we have." Macen shrugged, "Figured you could handle the naked truth."

"Yeah, I can." she sighed, "I just prefer the public relations version."

"Who doesn't?" Macen asked in a jaded tone.

* * *

Macen and Daggit holed up in Macen's office for the next three hours. The office filled the quarters adjacent to Macen and T'Kir's rooms. Macen was there to provide Daggit with intelligence reports and assessments. With half an hour to spare on their deadline, they'd completed a working plan for the rescue of the President's daughter and Tom Riker.

Daggit reconvened the insertion team's briefing in the conference room. The room was filled to seating capacity. This time, Daggit sat at the head of the table and Macen joined the crowd. This briefing lasted much longer than the previous one as the various team members argued or quibbled over minute points.

The intercom's chirping interrupted the general melee. Macen made his way to the intercom box next to the door and stabbed the activation button with his thumb, "Macen."

"We've cleared the second asteroid field and are proceeding to Gwendyr VI under cloak." Kirk reported.

"What's our ETA?"

"Forty-five minutes at half impulse."

"Maintain speed and keep a weather eye out for surprises." Macen ordered.

"Aye, sir."

Macen turned to the quieted team, "I suggest we finish up here and get a final meal. It may be the last you get for several hours."

* * *

By silent consensus, the group dispersed and headed for the galley. Macen conferred with Kirk while T'Kir busied herself at the OPS station. When she'd finished, she turned to Grace.

"Okay, Hannah, the worm program has been loaded." she explained, "If you get a SOS from the team, just input your authorisation code and type the word, 'commit' and the virus will be launched."

"And just where did you get my authorisation code?" Grace wondered.

"I didn't pull it from your head if that's what you're worried about." T'Kir assured her.

"Thanks." Grace wore a sour look, "That makes it worse. The computer is supposed to maintain separate secure files on each us. No one is supposed to be able to access anyone else's logs or codes."

"Hey," T'Kir grinned, "I _own_ this computer, baby. It does whatever I tell it to."

"There's a frightening thought." Grace groused.

"Some friend you are." T'Kir pouted.

"_That's_ exactly why I'm concerned." Grace confided, "Trust my experience. Don't reveal you have the power to alter people's lives. They resent it."

"I'm truly sorry `bout that, Hannah." T'Kir consoled her friend, "Eventually, the crew will learn to forgive and to look past their fears of what you represent." T'Kir's expression became fierce, "And if they don't, I'll make `em forget."

"You wouldn't!" Hannah said in horror, then asked, "Would you?"

"Course I would." T'Kir replied happily, "It'd serve them right too if they want to be that ignorant."

"Don't judge them too harshly." Grace implored, "My people _did_ come as conquerors. They've been forced into learning peace. I'd like to set an example for them that sustained interaction with aliens is a good thing."

T'Kir have Grace a reassuring squeeze on her arm, "I have to go prep now. Hang in there and maybe we'll both see this thing through."

"I will if you will." Grace smiled.

* * *

Macen and T'Kir reached the galley to find the rest of the extraction team there. Kort and Radil had a table to themselves and were wolfishly attacking their meals. Daggit and Danan were seated together at an adjoining table. Macen and T'Kir got their meals and joined them.

Daggit was eating voraciously while Danan was listlessly moving her food around on her plate. Macen noticed Danan's discomfort and asked her about it, "What's wrong Lees?"

"This." she waved a hand at the assembled team, "It reminds me of the Maquis. One last hearty meal before you go off to die."

Macen grinned, "Who d'you think I stole the idea from?"

Danan shrugged, "Ro Laren?"

Macen pounded the table, "Damn straight! She always said, 'an army fights on its stomach' and she's right."

"Brin," Danan implored, "we're not an army."

"Daggit is." T'Kir muttered. Daggit stared at her and she met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Lees, everyone on this team has seen combat, including you." Macen reminded her, "You handled yourself quite well on the Gulag mission and you'll do fine here. You've certainly handled the shipboard scenarios while I'm on an investigative assignment."

Macen pointed at her, "Besides which, you've wanted to get more involved with the investigations. Here's your chance."

Danan sighed, "I just don't want to see you place everyone in harm's way unnecessarily."

"The Captain saw me through the Dominion War and again since I signed up for this crew." Daggit opined, "I trust his judgement."

"I suggest we put our concerns behind us and throw ourselves into the task." Macen informed her.

Danan hesitated, and then slowly nodded, "You're right."

Macen sat back with a perplexed look on his face, "Why d'you sound surprised by that?"

* * *

Grace silenced the alarm and reported to Kirk, "There's our problem. The _Miranda_-class starship _McLachlan_ jut broke over the horizon and is scanning the entire region with her active sensors."

"Could she detect us?" Kirk asked pensively.

"There's always a possibility that we could leak electromagnetic radiation through our sensors or undergo a power spike that could penetrate the cloak." Grace explained.

"Could they detect the plasma trail of our impulse engines?"

"Yes." Grace informed her, "But it should read like a solar discharge."

"Could you guide us in ballistically and then set us in proper orbit, right on their tails, only using the manoeuvring thrusters?"

"Of course." Grace replied confidently, "But why bother?"

"Just to be certain that we deliver the extraction team as quietly as possible." Kirk elucidated.

Grace did a fast set of calculations and made minute course adjustments, "I've plotted a parabolic course that should use the moon's own gravity well to drop us in behind the _McLachlan_."

"Good work, Hannah." Kirk squeezed her shoulder, "I'll alert the Captain and the Chief they're on stand-by for the transporter."

* * *

The extraction team was gathered in the armoury. They'd changed into uniform and were now dressed in the dark/light grey "tiger stripe" uniforms introduced by the Earth MACO units. They all wore bronze coloured undershirts under the uniform tunic. Over the camouflaged top every person wore a black tactical vest to supplement their utility belts.

Kort and Danan sported phaser rifles along with their issue pistols. Radil had once again strapped on the portable phaser cannon and was adjusting its sights. The sight was tied into a pair of clear glasses that she wore. Daggit carried a photon grenade launcher. The pump action weapon closely resembled its pellet launching ancestors. Macen and T'Kir were content to rely upon their pistols.

In addition to the multitude of powerpacks every team member carried, each individual carried two stun grenades. Kort also carried a full medkit in a shoulder bag and a _bat'leth_ strapped across his back. The utility belts carried the usual compliment of tricorders, wrist restraints, and various pieces of evidence gathering equipment.

Dracas commed Macen, "We're almost in position, sir."

"We're on our way, Chief."

* * *

"Slip us in right behind the _McLachlan_." Kirk ordered, "I want to be right off her aft quarter. Keep us far enough back that they don't detect our neutrino emissions but close enough to put the fear of the Great God in them if we decloak."

"Can do." Grace said with a slight furrowing of her brow as she made multiple adjustments to their course and speed.

Kirk activated the intercom to the transporter room, "All right Chief, you have five minutes until we're over the target."

"Right." Dracas drawled slowly, "The away team is just arriving now. I'll have `em off on time."

* * *

The extraction team had had to divide into two groups to fit into the turbolift. This was mostly due to Radil's cannon. Radil, Kort and Danan took the car first. The others followed as soon as the lift cycled. They arrived to find Dracas completing his final diagnostics on the equipment.

The transporter room was arranged in an ovular shape. The pads were at one end of the room and the controls at the other. The pads were arranged in a block of four with two outcropping stations to either side of the central cluster. Radil and Daggit took the outcropping pads while the rest of the team sorted themselves out on the remaining four pads.

Dracas pressed an electrostatic "button" on his console that primed the transporter circuits. Watching the clock on his display, he waited for the numbers to countdown to "zero". With the countdown completed, Dracas pushed his hand upwards across his console. A corresponding measurement bar lit up.

The team was eclipsed in halos of light. Their bodies disappeared as they were transformed into energy and absorbed by the energy matrix surrounding them. The energy was then shunted and transferred to the emitter array. The energy patterns were transferred to the surface and returned to their physical patterns. Rechecking his monitors and sensors, Dracas was satisfied that the operation had gone well and placed the transporter on stand-by.

The mission was now underway.


	11. Chapter 11

179

"I must say, I truly appreciate your increased spirit of co-operation." Arinea flashed a brilliant smile. Her chin rested upon her laced fingers and her eyes held Tom's in thrall, "It's refreshing to see after your months of oppositional behaviour."

"It's a lot easier to co-operate now that the more invasive procedures are over." Riker grinned in return. What surprised him was that they words rang true. Ever since he'd come to the personal attention of the Director of this facility and they'd begun to have daily contact, his attitude towards ongoing resistance had shifted somewhat.

If asked, Riker would have willingly confessed that he was beguiled by Arinea's charm and personality. She'd been fascinated by the tale of his life. Her only oddity seemed to be her utter fascination with Riker's association with Brin Macen. She'd delved deeply into his perspective and insights into the other man. At first it had merely been a curious tendency, now it was a trait that evoked jealousy.

Riker and Arinea were currently seated in the facility's commissary. Nearly a dozen Special Forces personnel were there as well. There were also representatives of the scientists in their white coveralls and the black garbed security forces that he'd initially encountered upon his arrival here. All the others gave Riker and the imminent Director a wide berth.

That was until Gideon Weisz approached and came to a very stiff "at ease" next to their table, "Director, we need to talk."

"So speak." Arinea smiled lazily at him.

Weisz remained unfazed, "In _private_, ma'am. It's important."

"Oh, very well." Arinea sighed and returned her focus to Riker, "I'm sorry our time today has to be shortened. I look forward to tomorrow's rendezvous."

"As do I." Riker confessed.

Arinea bestowed a brilliant, heart breaking smile upon him and summoned his escort. The two darkly clad Section 31 agents approached and silently stood by.

"Finish your meal, Tom. They'll wait all day if necessary." Arinea assured him with a squeeze of his arm. With that said, she exited the commissary in the company of Weisz. They navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the complex in silence until they reached her office. She keyed in her access and opened the door. Weisz followed in her wake as she entered and headed for her desk. She motioned for him to take one of the chairs laid out before the bureau.

Arinea stretched back in her chair, steepled her fingers, and wantonly played at her lower lip. When she spoke, all the warmth and honey that she had displayed in the commissary was absent, replaced by a cold precision, "How can I assist you, Commodore?"

"I merely have a few security concerns that I feel we should discuss before they pose a problem." Weisz answered.

"Oh, really?" Arinea arched an eyebrow, "And what exactly may these be?"

"Mr. Riker for one." Weisz confessed, "His increased mobility could prove problematic if he were to encounter our other 'guest'."

"Let me see if I have this straight," Arinea said incredulously, "when you first arrive, you object to my treatment of Mr. Riker as 'barbaric' and 'criminal'. Now that I'm giving him what you would consider humane treatment, you again have an objection."

"Well, of course I'm happy to see his conditions improve, but I never imagined you'd give him the run of the base." Weisz replied somewhat irritably.

"I've hardly given him 'the run of the base'." Arinea coldly clarified, "And if you believe for one moment that you influenced my decision to change tactics regarding Riker, think again. The standard interrogative methods were getting us nowhere. His time amongst the Cardassians hardened him to conventional influences. However, both his file and that of his 'twin' indicated that he was something of a womaniser. I chose to employ that tack. Furthermore, I opted to engage Riker myself since I knew my capabilities and had no idea of throwing one of my hapless researchers into a situation that may easily overwhelm them."

"You far more mercenary than I gave you credit for." Weisz admitted.

Arinea broke into a lopsided smile, the first genuine smile that had been seen from her in weeks. She nodded her head in acknowledgement, "Thank you, you're too kind."

"How are your negotiations with the President going?" Arinea asked suddenly.

"The usual delaying tactics." Weisz shrugged, "They're trying to buy time for one of the scattered starships to pick up our trail. They've assembled an attack squadron in the heart of the Federation to be deployed to wherever we're discovered to be."

"So no threats of imminent discovery?"

"The two closest starships are the _Defiant _and the _T'Pol_. My contacts indicate they are several sectors away from discovering us, even with Cardassian assistance." Weisz revealed.

"How good are your sources?"

"I'm obviously trusting them with my life, so I'd say they're pretty damned good."

Arinea nodded again, apparently satisfied, "That they survived the initial purge of the Special Forces ranks is an encouraging sign."

Weisz pursed his lips at this obvious reminder that Arinea had excellent sources of her own. Theirs was an alliance of convenience. Neither approved of the methods nor the motives of the other, all that mattered was that they both sought similar results. As long as this remained true, they would remain united.

* * *

The Outbound Ventures crew re-materialised on the surface of the secondary moon of Gwendyr VI. It was a rugged, barren terrain. The laboratory complex's entrance was built directly into the rock face of the slope of an extinct volcano. The facility itself was constructed within the lava tubes that riddled the mountain.

The first sound any of the team members heard was Daggit racking the slide action pump of his grenade launcher, chambering a round. They then broke up and sought cover. Boulders lay strewn about the landscape. Rock outcroppings also stretched forth from the mountain's slope. It was behind these natural barriers that the SID unit found shelter from the line of fire stemming from the base's entrance.

Macen was crouched behind a large rock. He held his phaser pistol in a two-handed grip, squarely aimed at the entrance. Across the landscape, the rest of the squad did likewise. The only exception was T'Kir.

T'Kir was crouched beside Macen. She held her phaser with her elbow bent, aimed at the sky. In her right hand, she held an active tricorder. She intently studied its various read-outs and displays. When she folded the device shut, she wore a buoyant smile.

"The door relies upon a simple electromagnetic spectrum sensor as its security alarm. The lock is a standard Cardassian cipher sequenced tumbler augmented with a Starfleet Security encrypter. Should be a piece of cake to spoof." she happily reported.

"They're relying upon their location as their primary defence." Macen observed, "That'll work to our advantage. They won't be expecting an uninvited rescue party. How soon can you begin jamming their sensors?"

"I'll fool their sensors into believing we're 'ghosts' in less then ten minutes." T'Kir replied confidently. In the end, it actually took twenty-two minutes. Next, Macen and T'Kir ran to the entrance door. Macen stood vigil over her while she utilised her second tricorder to insert a virus into the locking mechanism. This procedure did take less then ten minutes. The door cycled aside like a giant gear rolling out of the way.

Radil had come up behind Macen and T'Kir and took point as the door opened. Using the targeting sensors on her cannon, she utilised her Heads Up Display eyewear to survey the walkway stretching before them. A central catwalk proceeded straight ahead for a hundred metres then angled off to follow the catacomb tunnel they were entering. To either side of the walkway were "floor" to "ceiling" cylindrical vats intended to hold a vast quantity of some material. Macen pushed ahead to examine the labelling on one of the vats as the team spread out up and down the catwalk.

The label was written in both the Gamma Quadrant born script of the Dominion and Cardassian. Macen frowned, "Ketracel-white. Vats of the _frinxing _stuff. This bodes ill."

"How ill?" T'Kir asked, her ebullience fading.

"I don't know yet." Macen admitted, "By the time I do, it may be too late."

"Joy." T'Kir remarked sarcastically.

"Aren't you happy you came?" Macen managed to tease.

"Always." T'Kir replied smartly, but managed to actually mean it despite her sense of foreboding.

"Have you noticed the air?" Kort asked from his position across the way.

T'Kir sniffed as Macen shrugged, "It's fresher than it should be. Cardassian air scrubbers leave behind a tangy sourness. This smells like the work of Federation equipment. The only extra permeating scents are those of volcanic rock and soil."

Kort nodded, "Exactly."

"It's also the heat." Danan remarked from behind their position, "It's been lowered from Cardassian norms to human standards."

"Just another indication that they're here to stay." Macen commented, "C'mon, let's move out."

* * *

"Chief, how we doing down there?" Kirk asked via the intercom.

"The same as we were ten minutes ago when you asked." Dracas replied testily, "All of my equipment is fully functional."

Chastised, Kirk squeaked a, "Sorry." before closing the circuit. She rose from the command chair and took up position beside Grace, "Any sign that they've detected us?"

"Nope." Grace said as she re-checked her sensors, "Despite the fact that they're banging away with their active sensors, we're in their baffles, sheltered from their main sensor arrays. There is a chance they'd detect us if they fired up their impulse engines. Given our proximity to their estimated plasma exhaust, we'd absorb a great deal of heat from their impulse drivers. The heat plume we'd shed would be 'visible' even if every other aspect of the ship were cloaked."

"You have my permission to lob a couple of torpedoes up their engine baffles if they begin to prep their impulse engines." Kirk ordered.

Grace grinned, "Already programmed and auto-sequenced."

Kirk squeezed her shoulder, "I'd put you up for a commendation but its not like we're truly part of any fleet."

"Just tell the Captain." Grace requested, "That'll be enough."

"You've got it."

* * *

The extraction team had followed the twists and turns of the entrance tunnel until they reached the threshold of a large cavernous space. Macen went forward to see what the situation was. Hugging the rock "wall" and clinging to the shadows, he narrowly avoided discovery by a Special Forces trooper standing guard. The area itself possessed three hollowed out pockets that were converted into individual workspaces. These spaces were filled with equipment. It appeared scientific in nature. Unbeknownst to Macen, it was from this location that Tom Riker had transmitted his fateful SOS.

Macen slid back down the corridor to where the rest of the team anxiously waited. Macen motioned for Kort to come forward and pressed his fingers to his neck. Kort nodded in understanding and passed his phaser rifle to Danan. Radil moved forward with Kort. She stopped and took up position in a minor indentation in the tunnel's face. Kort crept into the rotunda between the labs.

Kort tread lightly, not daring to breath or make the slightest sound. His hand hovered over his phaser pistol as he stole ever closer to his target. His other hand withdrew a hypo from his vest pocket. He held it poised as he closed the distance between himself and the Special Forces soldier.

As though alerted by a sixth sense, the SF soldier turned suddenly and faced Kort. Kort rushed forward to meet him. Radil stepped out of her hiding spot but was unable to acquire a clear shot due to the proximity of the two combatants.

Kort quickly took hold of the sentry's pulse rifle with his free hand. The trooper swung the rifle butt upwards in an arc intended to connect with Kort's prominent jaw. Kort stepped back, evading the attack but he had to relinquish control of the rifle's barrel. The soldier attempted to aim at Kort's chest but the Klingon was already on the move.

Kort jumped forward, shoulder checking the Special Forces guard. The Bolian was thrown off balance and Kort made his move. He disarmed the trooper with a savage chop across the arms. Kort then drove his knee into the renegade Starfleet officer's stomach. Propping up the assailed sentry, Kort pressed the hypo to his neck.

The Bolian slumped in his arms and Kort waved his comrades forward. Radil paused, released a heated sigh and said, "That's my man."

Radil led the team into the rotunda. There were two other tunnels exiting the cavern. There were also the apparent lab facilities. Macen opted to deal with both at once.

"Daggit, Radil, pick a tunnel and guard it. Kort, stash the guard you incapacitated and then stand watch over the entrance tunnel. We know no one can beam through the kelbanite veins in the rock walls but they can easily beam down to the entrance and come up behind us." Macen ordered, "Lees, now's when you use your expertise to determine what this equipment is and what they've been using it for. T'Kir, you're with her. Unlock the computer systems so she can access the scientists' notes and models. I know there's some friction between you two right now but you're going to do your best to resolve your differences for the sake of the mission. Hate each other on your own time."

Thoroughly chastised, the pair separated and went to different lab modules. Macen went to Radil's position and took out his tricorder. He scanned down the corridor. After studying the results, he went to Daggit's holding and did the same.

"Well, that settles that." Macen frowned, "This route leads towards a higher concentration of lifesigns."

"Including our targets?" Daggit asked.

"There's no way to know." Macen shrugged.

"Then I'd suggest we go with the path of least resistance and do everything in our power to preserve the element of surprise."

"I agree." Macen nodded.

* * *

"I'm telling you, both our forces need to be hyper-vigilant." Arinea stressed, "Each day that passes brings Brin Macen closer to discovering us."

"I thought we'd just agreed that Starfleet posed no immediate threat to us." Weisz sighed.

"Starfleet doesn't." Arinea agreed, "Macen isn't Starfleet. Section 31 has extensive files on him. His list of accomplishments are quite impressive, and occasionally frustrating for my patrons."

Arinea squirmed slightly as she confessed, "I've had had more than a few dealings with the man myself. He can seem more a force of nature than a man. We need to be careful."

"I'll take it under advisement." Weisz replied dryly, "I've heard of this Macen as well. He was compelled to leave Starfleet. He is reckless and headstrong. He'd never manage to penetrate our security, even if he managed to uncover our location."

Arinea narrowed her crystalline eyes, "My personal experiences with the man paints a far different picture, as do Tom Riker's accounts."

She leaned back and took a sip of her spring wine, "However, I leave the matter to your discretion."

Weisz swirled his Saurian brandy, then inquired, "You've mentioned having some experience with this Macen. Could I ask what kind of experience you've had?"

Arinea's laughter was earthy and sensual, "I most certainly do not think so."

"Then answer me this: will it aid us in defeating him?"

Her smile was predatory, "Of that, you can be assured."

"Enough said." Weisz raised his glass in a toast.

* * *

"Brin, we may have found something." Danan called out.

Macen joined Danan and T'Kir in the lab module where they were working at a computer station. Multiple read-outs were active, displaying different tracks of research.

"First off," Danan began, "let me begin by giving you an overview of what we've found. First off is this equipment. Most of it is general variety sensor table style hardware. This particular bed behind us is special, it's a biomolecular scanner. Its this particular item that caught my attention."

"The computer records T'Kir tapped into were both revealing and invaluable." Danan explained, "They've been utilising the molecular scanner to perform multiple examinations of Tom's cellular structure, right down to the quantum level."

Danan's eyes locked in on Macen's, "Brin, I think they're trying to duplicate the incident that created two Rikers."

"But why?" Macen asked, slightly stunned.

Danan swallowed before answering, "The files are all attached to a weapons program designed to augment troop replenishments in a renewed conflict against the Jem'Hadar."

Macen's eyes hardened and blazed with artic fury, dispassionately he asked, "Did these tests harm Tom?"

"No." Danan was relieved to reply, "But they had reached the end of their experiments. The results were inconclusive. Tom was slated to become a permanent "guest" of the facility until such time as relocation was deemed necessary."

"Well," Macen said through clenched teeth, "that's not going to happen. Wrap up in here. We're moving out in five minutes." With that said he stepped back out into the rotunda.

Danan glanced over towards T'Kir, "He certainly took that well. He seems to have grown cold as ice rather than get all hot-headed."

T'Kir shook her head, "You've got it wrong. He's more dangerous when he's like this, not less. He's rational, but utterly, relentlessly merciless."

"God help us." Danan whispered.

T'Kir's sensitive ears picked up the invocation, "I think we'd like God on our side right now."

* * *

Radil returned to point. She led the way down the tunnel she'd guarded. Daggit followed her. Macen came next quickly followed by T'Kir. Danan held back a couple of metres. Kort held the rear.

The tunnel slowly curved to the right before emptying into another large cavern. A Cardassian style fusion reactor filled the space. T'Kir flipped open her tricorder and risked a scan. After a moment, she held up three fingers. Daggit nodded and passed his grenade launcher to T'Kir, who then moved it along to Danan.

Macen, T'Kir and Daggit emerged from the tunnel's entrance. Radil stood poised to rush in and assist. T'Kir pointed upwards to the second tier of the scaffolding and monitors banks surrounding the reactor. Daggit took hold of the outer lattice comprising the scaffolding and began to climb.

Macen and T'Kir split up and started down the rows of equipment and conduits that led to the reactor control booth where the other two engineers monitored the station's power source. The two engineers consisted of a Trill and a Bajoran. They were oblivious to their surroundings, focused entirely on their read-outs and their conversation.

Suddenly the Trill's head jerked, "Did you hear that?"

The Bajoran listened then shook his head, "No. I didn't hear anything."

"I could've sworn I heard…" she cocked her head to one side, "_There_! Didn't you hear that?"

"You've been in Section 31 too long." the Bajoran joked, "You're imagining threats coming from everywhere."

"I'm checking this out." she insisted, "Stay here if you want."

"Fine. I will."

The Trill descended down the two steps separating their platform from the ground and cautiously began down one of the pathways that led to the main walkway that bisected the cavern. She paused every metre or so to look and listen. She froze as she thought she heard rustling coming from her right. She slowly crept closer to where she thought the noise stemmed from. She hated the thought of running into a large Cardassian vole. They'd spent months after claiming the base chasing the seemingly unkillable vermin.

The engineer slipped a torch from her pocket and switched it on. She spun the corner around a cluster of conduits and shone the torch towards her intended victim. Only, there was nothing there. Unfortunately, a hand clamped itself over her mouth and an arm hooked around her head. Her mysterious assailant began applying pressure, cutting off blood to her brain. She blacked out as her brain screamed out for oxygen.

Macen released his grip and gently lowered the engineer to the floor. Although she bore allegiance to Section 31, by her co-worker's own admission, she did not own any part of what had happened to Tom Riker. She was only guilty of poor judgement and bad associations. There was no need to kill her, as Macen had been tempted to do.

Meanwhile, T'Kir strolled up to the control platform and walked up the two steps. She came to a halt behind the Bajoran.

"So, did you find your gremlins?" he laughed.

Silence was his only answer. He swivelled his chair around to face his unrepentantly hesitant partner. To his surprise, she wasn't standing there. Instead, a strangely garbed, heavily armed Vulcan stood watching him. Then she did the eeriest thing he'd ever seen: she smiled.

He opened his mouth to shout an alert to their third teammate but her hand snaked out faster than the eye could follow and took hold of the nerve cluster at the base of his neck. One deft squeeze and he was out. He started to slump forward in his chair but T'Kir caught him and resettled him. Now he looked as though he were slumped down trying to sleep.

The third engineering technician finished taking his readings and moved to the end of his catwalk. From there, he could see past the reactor housing down to the control booth. He saw his Bajoran co-worker slack in his chair and both Macen and T'Kir standing before him. He turned to run back to the first monitor bank in order to trigger the general alarm. What he encountered instead was a perfectly executed backspin kick from Daggit. The technician found himself knocked off his feet, hitting his head on the railing on the way down, driving him into unconsciousness.

Daggit stepped over the techs still form and gave Macen a thumb's up. Macen murmured instructions to T'Kir and she headed out for the central walkway. Upon arrival, she signalled Radil to get the team moving onward.

Radil traversed the whole of the cavern with a purposeful stride, her cannon squarely aimed at the mouth of the adjoining tunnel. Daggit rejoined the main group and retrieved his launcher from Danan's possession. Daggit assumed the rearguard position while Danan and Kort followed T'Kir back to the reactor area. Once there, Macen briefed them as to their particular assignments.

Kort was to sedate the three Section 31 support personnel so that they wouldn't recover within the hour and raise the alarm. Danan was to determine the reactor's vulnerabilities. T'Kir was to write a tapeworm program that could be remotely activated, initiating a cascading shutdown of the power core. This plan contingency took roughly thirty minutes to prepare.

On the move again, the team came to an interconnecting tunnel. T'Kir once again risked using active sensors within the compound. Thankfully, she got away with it one more time. The new outcropping tunnel led to a high concentration of lifesigns and EM signatures. The "original" tunnel stretched onwards for several kilometres before ending abruptly. The scans indicated a large cavern dominated by a massive mound of volcanic rock at its heart.

"Looks like we're changing direction." Macen said in consultation with Daggit.

"I concur." Daggit replied grimly, "We'd best get prepared for some organised resistance."

"Unfortunately." Macen said sourly as he nodded in agreement.

* * *

The next "room" they encountered appeared to oddly deserted. It was a locker/equipment room of some sort. The room was two tiered, with several sets of stairs leading up to the upper veranda. The upper deck encircled the lower area and stretched back an unknown distance.

Radil crossed the room and waited for her teammates to follow suit. They did so following the usual arrangement. Radil entered the tunnel and proceeded down it. She was nearing the tunnel's exit when a Special Forces trooper suddenly appeared in the tunnel's entrance. His eyes widened and his hand went for his phaser.

Radil released a pulse blast that caught him squarely in the chest. Alarms began to sound. Macen ordered her to push on to the tunnel entrance. She arrived only to have to pull her head back from a hail of pulsed phaser fire. She exchanged a few shots with the assembled Special Forces troops before withdrawing.

"It's too hot!" she informed Macen.

"Let's pull back and try again from the initial entrance." Macen decided, "You two, cover our withdrawal. Kort! You're now on point."

"_Qa'pla_!" Kort bellowed and moved "forward".

The team remained spread out as before. Radil began to lay down a barrage of suppressive fire intended to keep the Special Forces personnel from daring to enter the tunnel. Daggit brought the grenade launcher to his shoulder and fired. The weapon discharged with a _THOOM_.

A miniaturised photon torpedo fired from the launcher and headed down the tunnel towards the opposition. The pursuing troopers dove for the deck and the grenade passed overhead. It exited the tunnel and slammed against an equipment bank constructed in the adjoining cavern. The grenade's outer casing shattered, releasing the antimatter stored within its housing. The resultant explosion, although controlled, was still spectacular,

Daggit "pumped" another round into his launcher's chamber. The Special Forces personnel on the ground stayed there a moment longer, now knowing what they faced. Radil kept her weapon trained at the prone men and women, alert to any hint of movement.

Kort reached the equipment room and cautiously entered into with his rifle poised and ready. Danan followed him, covering the right side of the room while he covered the left. Macen and T'Kir entered and began to keep their pistols drawn on the upper veranda. Daggit exited, still focused on the tunnel. Radil moved out of the tunnel and slid to the side of the entrance, where she could still target any attempt to pursue the team.

A Special Forces trooper suddenly appeared from the left and fired at Kort. She was supported by two of her comrades. Kort opened fire in return. Danan shifted her aim and cut down one of the Special Forces soldiers. Kort nailed another, leaving the third. She reached for a stun grenade but was brought up short by suddenly finding the barrel of Kort's rifle pressed against her head.

"Yield." He growled.

Her hands spread out from her sides and her rifle clattered to the floor. Overhead, the sound of approaching feet could be heard. Kort chopped the base of the Special Forces woman's neck, knocking her unconscious. He added to the effect by shooting her while she was down. Kort may have been proud, but he didn't want to risk getting shot in the back because he failed to properly immobilise an enemy.

He started back towards the other tunnel entrance when he heard shouts. Kort signalled for Danan to seek cover and did so himself. Troops began to spill forth from the entranceway. Kort and Danan opened fire on them, stunning most of the first wave. Next, phaser fire began raining down from the veranda. Macen and T'Kir exuberantly returned fire but they were woefully outnumbered.

Daggit turned from supporting Radil and lobbed a shell across the room at the rearmost deck of the veranda. The three gunmen trying to set up a firing position there scattered. The grenade shattered the veranda and a section of it swung down, teetering over the entrance to the tunnel, effectively blocking it. Daggit racked another round into the chamber of his launcher and sought another target.

Kort swore as the separated veranda section fell before the tunnel's mouth. His intended route was cut off. A near miss from a hostile phaser blast redirected his focus. He swung his rifle upward and began firing at the Special Forces cadre surrounding them on the veranda. Danan followed his example. This took the brunt off of Macen and T'Kir.

Daggit fired another round at the upper deck. The round merely split the metal decking in half. No pieces detached this time. It did force all of the Special Forces troopers that had been employing that position to re-deploy.

The firefight continued unabated until a lone voice called out for a cessation of hostilities. Commodore Weisz had arrived and he ordered his people to cease-fire and stand down. Weisz surveyed the scene below him and shook his head. He found it painfully hard to believe that a half a dozen sentients had inflicted this much damage on his forces.

"Identify yourselves." Weisz commanded.

Macen lowered his pistol and stepped out into the open, "Commander Brin Macen, Starfleet Special Investigations Division, Commodore. I'm here to liberate your prisoner and to place you under arrest."

Weisz almost did a double take upon hearing the name of the opposition commander, "They said you'd retired, Commander."

"They say a lot of things, Commodore." Macen rebutted, "Most things are truths but some are not."

"Here is a truth then: I still have you outnumbered and outgunned." Weisz replied.

"Here is a truth for you, Commodore: I'm not leaving here without Tom Riker or the President's daughter. I could care less about you. You can be some starship captain's headache."

"Somehow I believe you." Weisz mused, "But that does you little good. Throw your weapons on the deck and surrender."

"You know I can't give that order." Macen replied firmly.

"Starfleet officers have been ordered to lay down arms before in the face of superior forces." Weisz reminded him, "I'll repeat myself one last time, place your weapons on the deck and surrender."

"I won't give that order." Macen vowed.

"Then you will die." Weisz promised in return, "Do not force my hand."

"You make your own decisions." Macen charged.

Weisz's eyes narrowed and he hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second, "Squads form up! Ready! Take aim…"


	12. Chapter 12

194

"Belay that order!" Arinea shouted as she came up from behind Weisz.

With her were two of her black garbed guards and Tom Riker. The guards were sans their customary batons. Today they wielded the latest model of Type II phasers.

"Stay out of this Madame Director, this is my jurisdiction." Weisz growled.

"This is still _my _base and you are still _my _guest, Commodore." Arinea coldly informed him, "If I want their lives spared, then they shall be so."

"You're making a mistake." Weisz warned.

Arinea's predatory smile met her eyes, "Watch and see."

She motioned her guards forward. They escorted Riker to the railing and aimed their phasers at his head. The SID team below recognised Tom immediately.

T'Kir approached Macen, "What's going on?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Macen confessed, "All I know is that all my extra senses are screaming."

"That makes sense." T'Kir responded, "Weisz is engaged with some woman that he distrusts but I can't get a bead on her. She's as mercurial to my telepathy as either you or Hannah."

"You mean her?" Macen nodded towards the platinum haired beauty descending the closest flight of stairs. Macen's blood ran cold as he recognised her, "Fates, no! It isn't possible."

"What isn't possible?" T'Kir inquired but Macen had grown silent.

T'Kir studied the approaching woman. She moved with a fluid grace. T'Kir started when she noticed the tattoo stretching across the length of the woman's arm. At its heart was the same mysterious sigil that Macen bore on his back. It had been obvious from Macen's reaction that he knew this enigmatic stranger. The woman's playful smile revealed that she also knew him.

"Hello Brin." her earthy voice purred, "Miss me?"

Macen stood there in silence and Arinea shook her head, "You'd think that after all this time, I'd at least rate a 'hello'."

"Back off sister." T'Kir snapped, "Just who the hell are you and what right d'you have t'demand anything from him?"

Arinea sized up T'Kir then returned her focus on Macen, "I see your taste in outspoken women remains consistent."

"Hey, lady, _I'm _the one who was talking to you." T'Kir growled.

"So you are." Arinea sighed then drew herself up, "My name is Arinea. Arinea Macen. You may have heard of me. You see, Sweetie, I'm his wife."

"His _what_?" T'Kir sputtered, "But you're dead."

Arinea shrugged, "Sorry to disappoint."

"What the _hell _are you doing here, Ari? Macen suddenly growled.

"Ah, he speaks." Arinea clapped her hands, "Progress at last."

Macen's right hand flashed out and he took hold of her throat. As he applied pressure, several Special Forces gunmen shifted positions for a better shot. Arinea gave him a lazy smile and pointed over her shoulder. Her guards had Riker by the hair and had jammed a phaser under his jaw. The implication was clear.

With a snort of disgust, Macen released his grip. Arinea rubbed her offended larynx while wearing a serpentine smile, "Them's the breaks, Snookums."

Macen's right hand hovered over the butt of his phaser pistol but Arinea wagged a finger at him, "We have more important matters to deal with than your bouts of adolescent rage."

"Such as?"

"Aren't you the teeniest bit curious as to how I survived?"

"Well, you obviously severed our empathic bond rather than getting assimilated by the Borg like I thought." Macen described, "Why, by the way?"

"I thought you were about to die." Arinea replied, "Why would I want to share in that experience?"

"Loyalty is obviously a topic we never discussed much." Macen muttered.

Arinea waved his protests aside, "I managed to convince a long range shuttle pilot to jump me out of the system. I made it to one of the outer colonies and boarded a freighter bound for the Gamma Quadrant. I managed to skirt Dominion territory and arrived in the vicinity of the Gamma side of the Bajoran wormhole when it was rediscovered."

"I hopped a transport to the Alpha Quadrant and resumed work as a biologist when I was contacted by Section 31. They'd perused my immigration statements and ascertained the breadth of my experience. They decided they could use my expertise. I advanced through the technical ranks until I was appointed Director of this facility after the war."

Arinea cocked her head to one side and a playful smile played across her features, "I read the file on you. It was quite impressive how you helped organise the evacuation of El-Auria's outer colonies. Too bad you couldn't get more people on board your half-dozen ships."

Macen's jaw clenched but the only other manifestation of his rage was the glint in his eyes. There was a glacial chill to them that frightened T'Kir. He was a man teetering on the edge of homicide. He could have easily done it right then and there without the slightest qualm. It was a facet of Macen's personality she'd seen hints of over the years but she'd never seen it so dangerously close to being irrevocably unleashed.

"Of course, after your arduous journey across the Delta and Beta Quadrants, you finally reach the Alpha Quadrant and your personal promised land: the Federation. You booked every remaining refugee into those two freighters. You even signed on as the 2nd Officer of the _Lakul_ in order to facilitate relations between the crew and the refugees."

Her smile turned malicious, "But along came the Nexus and almost everyone died. Poor you. But hey, you found your new home in the rescue attempt. Off you went and joined Starfleet despite everybody else's apprehensions. You ended up getting banished from the drastically reduced El-Aurian community and sent packing with your new friends at Starfleet. You always were too stubborn for your own good."

"Are we going to recite my personal history chapter and verse or are you going to get to the _frinxing _point sometime this decade?" Macen interrupted.

Arinea's eyes danced with delight, "The point is this: if you wish to see your comrades remain unharmed, you will accompany me."

"To where?" T'Kir blurted.

"To wherever I deem necessary." Arinea rejoined, after a moment, she smiled beatifically and stroked T'Kir's cheek. T'Kir angrily pulled away and Arinea's tinkling laughter was that of a demented child's, "You needn't worry, Honeybunch. The breaking of the empathic bond is tantamount to divorce amongst our people. When I severed my bonds with Macen, I also ended all our mortal ties. I've taken my share of lovers since, as I suspect he has as well. He'll still be yours when I'm through with him." she paused and then smiled maliciously, "Unless you have cause to doubt his virtue."

"Take him." T'Kir replied coldly, "I hope he carves your heart out, bitch."

"One never knows." Arinea's mercurial smile returned.

Macen ordered his troops to stand down. As of this moment, an uneasy cease-fire existed between the SID forces and the allied troops arrayed against them. Macen telepathically conveyed a final set of orders before following Arinea up the flight of stairs to the upper deck. From there, she led him to her office.

They went alone, unescorted by her guards who were left behind to mind Tom Riker. Macen also retained his pistol. He'd passed his two stun grenades to Daggit before separating from the team.

* * *

Macen followed Arinea into her office. He admired its bare simplicity. It reflected the teachings of their youth. Arinea proceeded straight for her desk.

She depressed a control on her desk and the door behind Macen closed. He could hear the locks cycle. What remained to be seen was whether that was to keep him in or to keep others out. She then activated her desk monitor and inserted an isolinear datarod into the transmission receptacle.

With that finished, she moved out from behind the desk. Macen took his first real moment to study her. She wore a coy smile unlike any he'd ever seen from her in the past. It bespoke of danger and instability. Her mercurial mood swings were becoming increasingly unstable. She was toying with him by bringing him here and he was wondering what her game truly was.

Superficially, she looked about the same as the last time he'd seen her, except that she was sadder. She'd added to her Seeker's sigil. The thorns were an added touch. He wondered what else was new about her.

"Slip of latinum for your thoughts." Arinea stopped next to a wall display containing two swords.

"Save your money." Macen advised, "You wouldn't like them."

"Be nice." Arinea _tsked_.

"You could have let me know you were alive." Macen accused.

"Actually, I only learned of your survival a few days ago myself." Arinea revealed, "Mr. Riker can be quite informative when properly persuaded."

"I'm certain your cohorts at Section 31 also had a few things to say about me."

Arinea dipped her head, "True. Mostly the 31 analysts concluded that you were a colossal pain in the ass. I found that easy enough to believe."

"Happy to oblige." Macen took a half bow.

"You would feel that way." Arinea said in disgust, "Can't you grasp how important 31's work is for the Federation?"

"Can you?" Macen rebutted, "Or is all of this here just a massive ego trip?"

Anger clouded Arinea's features but she quickly recovered her composure, "Do you still consider yourself a Seeker After Truth?"

"Do you?"

Arinea wagged a finger at him, "Ah, ah, no fair answering a question with another question."

"I do." Macen answered after a moment's deliberation, "But I consider myself a Seeker after the Seekers of old, before the Reformation."

"Yes, a warrior-scholar." Arinea mulled the concept over in her mind, "It would fit your new role as a soldier-spy."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it." Macen acknowledged, "Personally, I just focused on taking the whole Seeker concept back to its initial roots."

"In much the same way, one could say I have also held true to the precepts of our former vocation." Arinea stated, "I have striven to seek knowledge, defend the helpless and assist those in need."

"I'm not sure the Elders would agree with your interpretation." Macen replied dryly.

"Just as they accepted your interpretation of our calling?" Arinea pointedly asked, "They did cast you out from the fellowship of the Seekers. There aren't many of us left, you'd think they'd want to keep every surviving member within the fold."

All the discussion regarding the Seekers After Truth caused Macen to reflect upon the venerable brotherhood's origins for a moment. This brotherhood began as a scholarly conclave of soldiers. It was akin to Earth's military orders of the Roman Catholic Church. This contemplative society evolved over time to become an elite cadre that was one part scientific explorers and the other part specialised police force.

The Reformation caused the El-Aurians to lay down arms. The Seekers followed suit. Their part-time warriors became strict contemplatives and humanitarians. The Seekers had led the evacuation of El-Auria and her colonies during the Borg invasion. It was during the long trek to the Alpha Quadrant that Macen opted to pursue the ancient pathway of the Seekers.

Macen still bore the symbol of the Seekers on his flesh to denote his allegiance. It was obvious that Arinea did as well. She flaunted it openly enough with her open sleeve design top. It was also equally obvious that she'd drastically altered her marking.

The original design was a circular cord encircling a knotwork pattern. Arinea's added vines accentuated the base pattern without obscuring it. The intertwined nature of the design had been intended to illustrate the interconnected pathways of all things. An analogous philosophy had been espoused by the ancient Celts and their artwork had found similar artistic expression.

"I see you've modified the sigil." Macen observed, "Impressive. Were the thorns your idea?"

Arinea nodded, "They denote the condition of my heart."

Although Macen knew the comment was meant to evoke pity, he felt none. Arinea had made her choices. It was a shame that she'd suffered for them but didn't everyone?

"Why am I here, Ari?" Macen asked at long last.

Arinea's head canted to one side and she wore a pitying smile, "To see the end of all things."

_What the _frinx_?_ he thought, "I give. What's that mean?"

A chime from Arinea's desk sounded and her smile blossomed into a manic blaze, "The bell sounds."

"Ari, what the hell is going on?" Macen asked, patience at an end.

"I've released my foot soldiers. They are going to deal with your friends and the meddlesome Special Forces personnel." she explained.

"How many 31 guards do you have posted here?"

Arinea regarded him as though he were a slow child, "I haven't dispatched any more 31 personnel. They are safely tucked away in their quarters. No, Dear Heart, I've released the incubating Jem'Hadar from their birthing chambers."

Macen stared at her in disbelief, "Are you _insane_?"

"Why?" she asked, coyly chewing on the end of her forefinger, "Are you trying to suggest something?"

Macen scowled, "No, but I think you are."

"These Jem'Hadar have been bred to be more…open to suggestion. Their incubation indoctrination programs have also been altered. They now revere me in place of the Founders. I have an isolinear datarod that countermands my orders to apprehend your associates. If you want to play it, you merely need to accomplish one simple thing."

"And what would that be, beat you at a game of cribbage?"

Arinea laughed in delight, "No, my love, you must accept my _chalirain_ and defeat me in a test of steel."

"The 'blood challenge'?" Macen repeated in surprise, "Ari, no one's fought a _chalirain _in fifty thousand years."

Arinea shrugged, "There's a first time for everything."

"I won't do it."

"You will if you want to save your teammates…and your little trollop." Arinea sneered, "Those Jem'Hadar are instructed to kill everyone they meet."

"Fine." Macen snarled, "Give me the sword."

"Remember, I'm better with a blade than you." Arinea taunted as she removed a sword and scabbard from the wall. She tossed it to Macen. She then pulled its mate off the wall and pulled it in order to inspect the blade. Macen did likewise.

"These are Earth blades." Macen observed, "Japanese if I'm not mistaken."

Arinea nodded, "They are _katana_. The swords of the Vulcan master S'harien most closely resembled our native _sabrien_ but no artisan continues in the tradition of the ancient smiths. The martial traditions of the Japanese continue as meditative practices, not unlike our training with the Seekers, and blades are available at a price."

Macen tested the weight and balance of the single edged weapon. It was like an extension of his arm. That was going to be necessary. For Arinea hadn't lied, she'd always been better with a sword.

"Ready?" Arinea asked, assuming a guard position.

"Whenever." Macen said and readied himself for her attack. He did not wait long.

* * *

In the incubation room, the last of the Jem'Hadar had emerged from the birthing chambers and had dressed. Next came their individual tubes of the white. The first wave was already in the adjacent armoury gearing up for the conflict ahead. Arinea's orders were constantly replaying over monitors mounted on every wall in both the birthing chamber and the armoury.

The first signs of trouble were the cry of upraised voices and the approaching clatter of booted feet on the facility's catwalks. Daggit dove down the tunnel to see what was happening in the adjacent chamber. By the time he arrived at the end of the passageway, cyan plasma pulses were being unleashed by Jem'Hadar storming the position. The Special Forces personnel were doing their best to fend off the attacking horde but they were about to be overwhelmed by the _kamikaze_-like attacks of the Jem'Hadar.

Daggit used the lull in hostilities in the other room to reload his grenade launcher. Its five-round magazine tube was now fully loaded. Daggit racked the slide, took aim, and fired. The resultant explosion threw several Jem'Hadar to the ground and momentarily stemmed their advance. Daggit fired again. As his second round detonated, Radil joined him.

"We have to hold this room." Daggit ordered as Radil opened fire, "This is our escape route. We can't afford to get bottled up in there." He jerked his thumb towards the equipment room. "Can you manage while I get the others moving?"

"Watch me." Radil snarled as she cut a swathe through an advancing pocket of Jem'Hadar.

"Good girl." Daggit replied and went back down the tunnel.

* * *

The scene in the equipment room was one of sheer chaos. The Special Forces troops were being overrun while the SID team on the "ground" level tried to provide cover fire for their retreat down the stairs. Weisz had bravely, or foolishly, set himself up to be among the last to withdraw.

Daggit stood at the end of the tunnel and yelled at T'Kir, "T'Kir!"

"What?" She shouted back in exasperation.

"We need to withdraw." Daggit bellowed, "We can't afford to get caught in here."

"Did you just figure that out by yourself?" T'Kir snapped, "In case you hadn't noticed, we're working at getting out of here. I just thought a little help would come in handy."

Daggit reminded himself to never underestimate T'Kir's tactical abilities. Although she'd never been schooled by an orthodox military academy, she'd survived hard won lessons as part of the Maquis. Serving alongside Macen, she'd learned the arts of tradecraft. Although she'd never be a regular foot soldier, she was a superb covert operations operative.

Daggit stepped out into the middle of the equipment room and took aim at the overhead tunnel entrances. He fired once…twice…and a third time. Weisz's men used the disarrayed halt in the Jem'Hadar's advance to extract the last of their forces from the veranda level. Having completed his task, Daggit began purposefully striding back to the tunnel.

He removed grenades from the bandolier he wore and inserting them in the launcher's magazine tube. He pumped the slide and then inserted a final grenade. At this point, he'd reached the tunnel's entrance and halted. Weisz's troops were already pushing their way through and making their escape through the interconnecting chamber. Weisz moved up alongside Daggit and stopped.

"Thank you for that." Weisz humbled himself, "You didn't have to do that."

Daggit gave him a stony stare, and then broke his silence, "My guess is that we stand a far better chance of surviving this disaster by working together than by going our separate ways. Since I'm assuming we share a mutual goal of preserving the life of Ms. Abrams, I suggest you accept our offer of aid and begin co-ordinating with my team."

"What about your team leader?" Weisz asked.

"He'll outlive us all." Daggit replied, "Literally. I wouldn't be surprised if he meets us on our way out of this base."

"You're suggesting a complete withdrawal?"

Daggit nodded, "It seems the surest option for securing Ms. Abrams safety."

Weisz pondered his choices for a moment then nodded, "Agreed."

"Now that that's settled, let's get to it before the Jem'Hadar flank us." Daggit stepped out from underneath the veranda and fired a grenade into the support structure of the railing junction that led to the stairs. He fired again and it buckled entirely. He repeated the process on the other side despite the enemy's best efforts to kill him. Having secured their rear, Daggit entered the tunnel and began reloading his launcher.

Daggit moved up alongside Radil, who was laying down suppressive fire for the withdrawing Special Forces and SID personnel. Even with the heavy counter-fire against the Jem'Hadar, there were casualties. Corpses lay strewn about the floor. A handful of Special Forces troops were gathered near the entrance to the adjoining tunnel out of this chamber.

Daggit fired off all six of his grenades and then began to jog towards the tunnel entrance. Radil backed her way to the same location, firing continuously all the while. They made their way through the tunnel as the Special Forces soldiers followed them.

"We need something stronger than these stun grenades." Daggit growled as the rush of booted feet and the cries of the rearmost defenders were heard.

"Help me swap out the power packs on this damned cannon." Radil instructed.

"You haven't even used half of your power yet." Daggit protested.

"Just do it!" Radil angrily insisted.

Within moments, the power packs were exchanged. Daggit held up the partially used battery, "Now what?"

"Place that at the entrance of the tunnel and then run like hell." Radil informed him then as an afterthought added, "And you might want to clear this room."

Daggit didn't like the sound of that, especially since he'd grasped the essentials of her plan. Radil stood poised near a large cargo container while angling herself a clear shot on the powerpack. The three surviving Special Forces troops cleared the tunnel and began running flat out for the next tunnel entrance. Daggit hugged the tunnel wall in order to make room for the fleeing soldiers.

The emerging Jem'Hadar began firing at the retreating combatants. One was cut down. Her comrades abandoned her. Radil yelled for them to stand clear and she opened fire. Although the slowed the Jem'Hadar advance, she was unable to stem it.

"The last of the Special Forces personnel are through!" Daggit shouted and sought cover.

Radil shifted her aim. She fired several volleys at the powerpack, tracing her fire in. When it connected, the pack erupted with a thunderous explosion. A torrent of unleashed energy swirled in a miasma that tore down the tunnel and out the other side. The cargo bay was also engulfed.

The energy abated and Daggit came out from behind his sheltering outcropping. He cautiously entered the cargo bay. He peered through the remaining tendrils of smoke. Radil was nowhere to be seen. Neither, for that matter, was the body of the young Special Forces woman.

"Radil?" he called out but received no reply. His heart quickened, "Jenrya?"

Silence loomed.


	13. Chapter 13

207

"Heads up!" Grace called out, "The _McLachlan _is warming up her impulse manifolds."

"They're also receiving a series a series of coded messages from the surface." Kirk grumbled, "I can't make heads or tails out of them."

"Have you tried running them through T'Kir's decryption protocols?" Grace inquired.

"Yes." Kirk snapped irritably, "I've tried the damn protocols. This code is something they've never encountered. The computer's chewing on it and will get back to me later."

"Ooookay." Grace replied, "So where does that leave us? The minute those impulse engines come on-line we'll be blown. We can't risk backing off from the landing site for fear of losing communications due to the planet's atmospheric ionisation."

Kirk stared mutely at Grace for a moment and Grace held up her hands, "Hey, you're in charge. I'm just the helm jockey no one trusts any more."

Kirk frowned at Grace's self pity but let it slide for now. It only took her a span of mere seconds to weigh her options and decide on a course of action, "Prepare to drop cloak. Transfer all weapons to my monitors."

"We're gonna attack?"

"Yes." came Kirk's cold as ice reply.

Grace shrugged, "Cool."

"T'Kir has definitely infected your vocabulary." Kirk observed.

"Too bad, so sad." Grace grinned rebelliously.

_And her attitude as well,_ Kirk thought glumly as she activated the intercom to Engineering, "Chief?"

"Yes?"

"Are ready to go into combat?"

She could almost hear the silent sigh that preceded his reply, "It's possible, but I wouldn't recommend it with just a skeleton crew."

"So advised, Chief." Kirk assured him, "Hopefully it'll be a fairly one-sided confrontation. Please stand by."

This time he did sigh, "Aye, aye."

"All weapons at your command." Grace reported.

Kirk swivelled the monitors to either side of the command chair in front of her. She now had a standard sized LCARS bridge operations console in front of her. She surveyed her controls. The passive tactical sensors were continuously feeding her data. On a subsidiary display, she pulled up the specs on a _Miranda_-class ship. She began targeting phasers and torpedoes accordingly.

There was a chance their targeting sensors would alert an especially sharp sensor operator aboard the _McLachlan_. Without the _Solstice's_ active sensors activated the only indicator of the opposition's being alerted would be their raising of their shields. The _Sollie _would still be invisible to the enemy ship's sensors, at least until they engaged their impulse engines. After that, they'd have a full on fight on their hands.

Despite the fact that the _Miranda_-class was an even older starship design than the _Blackbird_, it was a larger hull replete with more armament and shielding. A first strike was critical for success. Kirk was uncertain if they could prevail if the element of surprise was lost.

"All right people, let's do this!" Kirk sounded far more confident than she felt, "Grace, drop the cloak."

* * *

"Jenrya, can you hear me?" Daggit called. For the first time since the war ended, Daggit was grateful for the psychological conditioning the scientists on Angosia had subjected him to. He was unable to panic while locked in his "combat mode". That alone was keeping him calm.

Despite his earlier musings to Hannah Grace earlier, Daggit was still smitten with Radil. Her developing relationship with Kort notwithstanding, Daggit was still hopelessly taken with the Bajoran woman and had been since their very first meeting. He knew of course that any chance that he had with her was lost when she first took notice of Kort. Radil was a woman who needed a cause and Kort was as great a cause as any other.

Daggit wished them every trace of luck they could get with their fledgling relationship. In his experience, romances predicated on the redemption of one of the partners usually imploded. He understood her attraction though. Kort came from a warrior culture, a natural draw for someone born and weaned amidst the Bajoran Resistance.

Kort's other attributes, a tragic story of wrongful exile and his addiction to alcohol, added to his allure. The Resistance had won their war, her days as a mercenary were over, her adherence to the mission of the SID was tenuous at best. Radil had been adrift in the ideological currents of life. Kort provided a hands on goal, and presumably great sex as well, Daggit mentally grated while reflecting on how she had glowed just before setting out on this mission. _Life just isn't fair, _Daggit groused.

Daggit knew that he would eventually come to terms with this latest romantic development. His visceral attraction to Radil would always remain but it would be tamed to a vestigial affection. Now, if he could just find the cursed woman!

A coughing to his left drew his attention. He slung his grenade launcher and drew his pistol. As he drew closer to the source of the sound, the hazy smoke filling the chamber dissipated slightly. He caught his first glimpse of Radil.

She was alive and sitting squarely on her arse with her hands behind her, propping herself up. She was situated behind several large cargo containers. Daggit rushed to her side and began examining her for injuries. Her nose was bloody but she had sustained no further harm that could be detected by a cursory physical exam.

Radil stared blankly straight ahead. It was as though she'd been stunned or traumatised somehow. While Daggit probed her with his fingers, he gently spoke to her, repeating her name several times.

She blinked suddenly and hoarsely whispered, "Kort."

With that said, she grabbed Daggit's head and drew him in for a rough, but passionate, kiss. He responded hungrily in kind. As his mind slowly registered her last words, duty took over and he pulled free from her needy grasp.

"Jenrya!" Daggit shook her by the shoulders, "It's me, Rab."

Radil blinked several more times then her eyes widened in embarrassed horror, "Oh Prophets…"

"Water under the bridge…or whatever that stupid human expression is." Daggit waved her concerns aside, "It never happened, so no worries, eh?"

Radil smiled warmly and Daggit's heart broke as she cupped his cheek with her hand, "You're a good man and a better friend, Rab Daggit."

Phaser bursts broke moment. Kort came rushing up to their position. Danan followed swiftly on his heels. She switched her rifle to pulse mode and unleashed a volley of shots towards the Jem'Hadar entering the chamber.

"Hurry up dammit!" Danan shouted at the others, "They're trying for another massed charge again."

"Get me to my feet." Radil instructed.

Daggit and Kort each took her underneath an armpit and hoisted her upright. Radil swayed a bit but managed to stay upright. Daggit unslung his launcher and moved to Danan's position, took aim and fired. The Jem'Hadar gathered at the tunnel entrance were killed, buying the SID team time to withdraw. They staggered their extraction in a two by two cover formation. On the way out, Daggit eyed a gravsled alongside a cargo container.

"Kort, cover me." Daggit requested, "I've got an idea."

Daggit ran to the gravsled and activated it. He ran its forward tongue under the cargo container and triggered the lift function of the sled. He then began to back the container towards the exit tunnel's entrance. Radil, Danan and Kort all moved into the tunnel, firing furiously at every Jem'Hadar to emerge into the chamber.

The trio ceased fire as Daggit swung the container into the entrance and set it in place in front of the tunnel's mouth. Daggit ran the sled into the next chamber then returned and cut off his comrades' retreat, "Give me your stun grenades."

"What?" Danan asked, slightly confused.

"Your grenades, give them to me." Daggit ordered, "All of them."

Collecting them all, he distributed them along the tunnel's walls, "Someone go collect T'Kir's as well."

Danan opted to go while Kort inquired as to Daggit's reasoning, "Isn't this futile? We need to slay the enemy, not merely stun them."

Daggit finished setting the grenades for a sequenced detonation, "This will kill them. Enough particle energy amassed in a tight enough concentration is invariably lethal. It also won't hurt that I'll be lobbing a photon grenade in here to trigger the detonation. The resultant explosion will kill every living thing in this tunnel as well as provide a backlash discharge that will fry anything in its way."

"Clever." Radil said in admiration, "I have to hand it to you, you're a ruthless bastard. We could have used a few of you Angosian augments in the Resistance."

Danan ran back before the swelling in Daggit's throat could subside, "Here's T'Kir's grenades. We have a problem though."

"What now?" Daggit sighed as he placed and set the grenades.

"Tom Riker's making trouble." Danan warned, "He's claiming he's in command in Macen's absence. T'Kir's holding him in check for now but it's a situation Commodore Weisz is sure to take advantage of. To top it off, T'Kir's swiftly running out of patience and Riker's liable to spend the rest of his life thinking he's a six-year old girl."

"I really don't need this." Daggit grumbled, "C'mon, let's go before the Jem'Hadar manage to move that container."

* * *

"Commodore, this is where we need to make a stand." T'Kir insisted, "It's only accessible from two points, but they're easily covered. The equipment and workstations in this area provide natural cover. There are rock outcroppings that also provide shelter. It's a natural stronghold. All you have to do is deploy your forces and bring the President's daughter here."

"And why would I do that?" Weisz wanted to know.

"Because," irritation began to creep into T'Kir's voice, "Your forces are currently divided and you need every body you've got. You can be more easily assured of her safety if she's here…"

"In a firefight?" Riker asked.

T'Kir's answering glare shot daggers, "_Yes, _in a firefight. She'll have her own contingent of guards. I'm willing to bet she'll be the safest one in the room."

"I disagree." Riker said, "With Commander Macen missing in action, I'm in command. I say we continue our gradual withdrawal and pick up the President's daughter along the way."

"You sit your ass down and shut up or so help me when I'm through with you you'll be a diaper wearing, drooling glob of flesh!" T'Kir snarled, "Brin will be rejoining us and we're going to give him the opportunity to catch up."

Daggit chose that moment to arrive, "I hear we have a problem."

Riker shrugged, "There's no problems here, except a failure to recognise my authority."

Daggit shook his head, "There've been no failures, _except_ for your refusal to acknowledge that you have no authority in this situation."

"I may have been gone for awhile but I'm still the ship's captain of this crew." Riker countered, "Macen's absent, that leaves me in command."

"No." Daggit forcefully poked the taller man in the chest, "That leaves you in command of our scoutship. You're ship's crew, not part of the investigative team. I'm the executive officer of the investigative team. The team's Mission Commander and Investigative Team Leader is currently not present. Under these circumstances, that leaves _me_ in charge."

Riker appeared to be nonplussed. He hesitated for a moment, then with a chagrined grin, stuck out his hand, "As long as we both agree that the situation would be reversed aboard ship."

It was Daggit's turn to grin as he accepted Tom's grip, "Agreed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a war to prosecute."

Daggit turned to Weisz, "If I could have a moment of your time, Commodore?"

Weisz chuckled, "Certainly, if you have your internal affairs straightened out now."

Daggit kept his focus on Weisz even as Riker bristled, "There should be no further issues of note."

"Then what's on your mind?" Weisz said as Daggit led him away.

Riker looked to T'Kir, "So now what?"

"Now we hold as long as we can in order to give Brin an opportunity to rejoin us," T'Kir said somewhat fiercely, "and to redouble the First Daughter's protection by having her security detail join us at this location. Centralising and consolidating our forces only strengthens our position and increases our odds of survival."

Riker rubbed the back of his head and whistled, "I thought you'd merely been a Maquis terrorist. I never realised you were a close quarters combat specialist."

T'Kir snorted, "I was one and the same. It was impossible not to be considering the type of war we were waging."

"Point taken." Riker conceded, "But I feel naked in all of this. I'm the only one in this room that's unarmed. Even those two Section 31 goons that had been guarding me have weapons."

T'Kir reached behind her back and unclipped a pouch from her utility belt. She handed it to Riker. Upon examination, he discovered that it possessed a Type I phaser and two power packs.

"Be judicious with your fire control." T'Kir advised, "Those are the only two spare power packs for a phaser that size."

Riker nodded solemnly as hew clipped the pouch/holster to his belt, "I'll keep that in mind. So what happens next?"

"Next we do whatever Daggit tells us to do and we wait for hostilities to resume." T'Kir replied with a shrug, "After that, we just concentrate on staying alive as long as possible."

Riker managed a jaunty grin, "And here I thought you'd ask for something difficult."

* * *

Aboard the _McLachlan_, Shran was called over the tactical station.

"Problems Lieutenant?" The Andorian asked.

"I'm reading a large concentration of neutrinos towards our aft quarter." Lt. Becky Yeoh reported, "In fact, there's a energy disruption emerging there now. Oh God, It's another ship decloaking!"

"Raise shields!" Shran shouted and headed for the command chair, "Lock phasers! All ahead full!"

Shran needn't have bothered with his instructions to Yeoh. As soon as she'd recognised the nature of the threat facing the _Miranda_-class cruiser, her fingers had flown into action, bringing the venerable ship's defensive systems on-line. Like all of the Special Forces personnel, Yeoh was cross-trained in both starship operations and dirtside combat. Unlike the bulk of her compatriots, her primary specialty involved ship's systems, hence her presence aboard the _McLachlan_.

The _McLachlan's _shield generators began generating an electrostatic field that formed a "bubble" around the ship. Unfortunately, it was far too little too late. The first of the _Solstice's_ torpedoes and phaser blasts ripped through the building energy barrier and slammed into the _McLachlan's_ nearly unprotected hull. The aft shield generators had been among the first primary targets.

Becky Yeoh fought down a surge of panic as her rear shield utterly collapsed. Her aft torpedo launcher had also been compromised. Assessing how badly they'd been damaged, Yeoh noticed that the attacking scoutship had locked a tractor beam onto the larger cruiser. She also swiped its IFF transponder for the first time since their engagement had begun.

Yeoh shook her head at what the last two revelations indicated. The IFF transponder revealed the ship's ID as that of the _NDR 745117 SS Solstice_. The ship's registration was out of Barrinor. Barrinor had been settled by Federation citizens under their own initiative and independent of the Federation's Office of Colonial Affairs. The settlers were renowned for their independent spirit.

The other vital piece of information imbedded in the computer's database was that the ship was owned and operated by one Brin Macen operating under the auspices of Outbound Ventures, Inc. Outbound Ventures, in turn, was a contracted agent of Starfleet Intelligence's Special Investigations Division. It _was _entirely likely that this was a sanctioned attack. Utilising one covert attack force to neutralise another was standard operation procedure.

This reverie occurred over the span of mere seconds but they proved vital in proving to be Yeoh's undoing. Too late, she realised what the _Solstice_ had done. The scoutship's tractor beam was not intended to hinder the _McLachlan's _movements. Rather, it was in place to tether the two ships together. As the cruiser completed its "flip" in space, the _Solstice _would mirror its movements, firmly affixed to the _McLachlan's _vulnerable aft quarter.

"Oh shit." Yeoh whispered as the _Solstice _resumed her attack.

The deckplates shuddered as the privateer's second salvo, then the third arrived. Upon the fourth, lights, monitors and consoles across the bridge went out. Yeoh heard Shran violently swear. The acting CO came out of the command chair and headed for her position. The shadows played havoc with his features, accentuating the fierce rage he felt.

"I don't care how you accomplish it, Lieutenant," the Andorian hissed, "but target these cretins and _destroy_ them!"

"Yessir." Yeoh responded, "I'll get them yet."

Shran could taste Yeoh's frustration. The poor, beleaguered Tactical Officer was struggling to cope with the highly unorthodox tactics of the _Solstice_. As a Special Forces officer, Yeoh was used to the unusual but this was beyond her experience. _This accursed scoutship is a thing possessed, _Yeoh thought dismally as she called to Engineering to inquire as to battle damage and the availability of power.

"We've lost primary and auxiliary power." the acting chief engineer reported, "We're down to just the batteries. My damage repair teams report they could get the secondary aft phaser bank operational in less than an hour. However, we will require at least two hours to restore auxiliary power."

Yeoh mentally cursed, "We'll have to make the best of it, Chief. Carry on."

_Now, _she mused, _if we can just hold out until the repairs are completed._

* * *

"What now?" Grace asked.

"Maintain the tractor lock." Kirk responded, "This way, if they move, we move with them."

"Are you done shooting?"

"For now." Kirk replied, "Sensors indicate that they've lost main power. That could mean they've also lost auxiliary power or they could just be lying doggo while they repair various weapons systems."

"Gotcha." Grace said, "So basically we're going to float here and do nothing while we wait to see what their next move will be."

Kirk nodded with a grin, "That's about it."

"I think I'm starting to get the hang of this strategy thing." Grace declared with a triumphant bob of her head.

Kirk shook her head but kept her mouth shut. Essentially, Grace was correct. She _was_ beginning to grasp the Essential Stratagems for Starship Combat Operations (the down and dirty edition). Just as Kirk had spent the last few weeks studying for the Academy Entrance Examination and Equivalency Test, Grace had begun to seek greater insights into the reasoning behind the orders given to her and her teammates.

It also meant she was questioning those selfsame orders more, "But shouldn't we continue pounding them?"

"We were ordered to engage only if threatened." Kirk reminded her younger charge, "We've done that. Now its time to sit back and give our opponent a chance to recover."

"But…"

"No more protests." Kirk declared, "The decision's made. Now learn to live with it."

"Yes, ma'am." Grace replied with waning enthusiasm.

_Bosses preserve us_, Kirk mentally sighed.


	14. Chapter 14

222

Macen ducked under the blade that arced over his head. He made a right handed slashing sweep with his own sword. Arinea continued the motioned of her attack and pirouetted away from Macen. She lithely curved her body to avoid his attack. Macen kicked off from his kneeling position and spun backwards, bringing his sword into a two-handed guard position when he halted.

Arinea ended her motion with one leg extended behind her to balance her weight. Her other leg was positioned directly beneath her, the knee slightly bent. She held her sword in an inverse, single-handed, overhead position. Arinea wore a demented smile.

"I must admit, I'm impressed." she confessed, "In the 'good' old days, I'd have skewered you by now."

"I'm not the man you used to know." Macen replied, his voice devoid of humour, or any other emotion, "The Borg changed everything. Your 'death' changed everything."

Arinea tossed her hair back over her shoulder, "And has the truth set you free?"

"In a sense." Macen admitted, "if not, the last twenty minutes have been a helluva revelation."

"Good." Arinea tittered and she leapt forward in a spinning attack.

* * *

"Get ready!" Daggit shouted to his teammates and the various Special Forces troops holding the line, "They're coming."

Daggit nestled the rifle butt of his grenade launcher in his shoulder. Radil stood alongside him, making minute adjustments to her cannon. Kort and Danan crouched behind their barricades across the central pathway that bisected the cavern. The SID team would fill a critical role in the skirmish to come.

The Jem'Hadar came surging into the cavern. Radil, Kort and Danan each laid suppressive fire into the advancing horde but it failed to stem the tide. Daggit rose from his crouch, took careful aim, and fired a grenade into the tunnel. A single detonation followed, seconded by another, then another.

"Get down!" Daggit shouted and dove for cover.

The sequential explosions in the tunnel built the detonation's total force geometrically. The tunnel itself harnessed and channelled the torrent of force. When it had been sufficiently fed, it launched forth into the two adjacent caverns. The Jem'Hadar in its path were instantly reduced to bone and ash. In the cavern occupied by the SID and Special Forces teams, the energy wave traversed the cave and travelled down the adjoining tunnel.

In the opposite cavern, where the connecting tunnel wasn't in line with the projecting tunnel, the energy was reflected off the cavern walls. These reflections were cast about the cavern's interior. Dozens of the surviving Jem'Hadar were killed in this secondary attack. The angry howls of the vengeful remnant echoed down the tunnel into the other cavern.

"Now you've done it." Radil playfully accused, "Now they're good and pissed."

Still locked into his "Combat" mode, Daggit could not join her in her merriment, "It had to be done. Now they'll be uncoordinated and reckless."

"_Now_ they'll be reckless?"

"The Jem'Hadar do not quail at death as we do. They were created and designed for a single purpose: to mete out death for their masters, or die trying. That death is met with absolute resolve, knowing that they are fulfilling their duty."

"Thanks for cheering me up." Radil groused.

"You should know by now that at moments like these, I'm incapable of 'cheering' anyone up." although his demeanour was calm, his eyes bespoke of a pain beyond reckoning. It was an intriguing facet to Rab Daggit she'd never seen before.

Daggit always presented the strongest parts of himself to the outer world. This glimpse of the man's inner workings presented a new realm of complexities that could take a lifetime to explore. It annoyed her that he'd chosen now to reveal his true self to her. She'd always known of his attraction for her and now, inconveniently, she was filled with an unbridled passion of her own.

The thought of pursuing Daggit was not repellent. Point of fact, she'd considered it many times but saw no need on his part for her. Added to this was what she and Kort had engaged in last night. For Klingons, the sex acts carried different ritualistic meanings dependant upon what specific activities were employed and in what order. According to Klingon traditions, she and Kort were now betrothed.

The Bajoran faith held that a mutual declaration of intent was all that was required to form a bond. A simple ceremony performed by a _vedek_ would seal the union. Dissolution of the bond was accomplished as it began, through a mutual declaration of intent.

Right now, she wished like hell she knew what the Klingon equivalent to divorce required. She had a sinking feeling that she'd need to know sometime in the future. Shaking off such pessimistic thoughts, Radil focused on what she and Kort had together. They had a common purpose and some similar interests. Both had a profound respect for the traditions of their people.

_And then there's the sex_, Radil remembered, her cheeks warming, _Totally without abandon or reservation. There's a rarity._

She spoke to Daggit even as she mustered her resolve to see what the future with Kort would bring. Who knew, perhaps he'd be the one to call things off, or better yet, they'd be perfectly happy.

"Sorry. I spoke without thinking."

Daggit racked a round into the launcher's chamber. His eyes still shone with the agony he felt. Radil suddenly realised that he anguished over every life that he took, and he was exacting quite the toll today. The pschoengineers on Angosia had done their work well. Only those that knew what to look for would see the signs of his suffering.

"They'll be coming." Daggit replied tersely, "We need to be ready."

Radil and Daggit exchanged places so that she could avail herself of the corner of their barricade. Kort sat across from her. Their eyes met and she could see the anticipation and pride in them. She decided then that was the essential difference between Kort and Daggit. Daggit took no joy from killing but did it efficiently and ruthlessly so long as his foes threatened him or his charges. Kort relished combat and would just as soon mount the heads of the Jem'Hadar on his mantle.

Amidst their bouts of lovemaking, Kort had revealed his past to Radil. Sent to the Imperial Academy for testing and determining his future role in the Imperial Defence Forces, the highly intelligent and literate Kort scored far too highly on the tests. He was removed from the Warrior tract and relegated to the Sciences track. His scores indicated an aptitude for the biological sciences and anatomy. His career as a doctor had begun.

Kort compensated, overcompensated really, for his disappointing career placement by pushing himself to excel at martial arts and the _bat'leth_. His violent rage manifested itself in a ruthlessness that quailed his opponents. Kort established his ranking amongst the warriors at every new posting by challenging the dominant fighters to duels of honour.

His rage was all consuming, leading to his battle with alcohol. It took gallons of alcohol to overcome the heightened metabolism of an average Klingon. It took a concentrated effort for a Klingon to become inebriated yet Kort managed time and again. He succeeded to the point that he preferred intoxication to sobriety. It was these attitudes that Radil was pledging to combat.

The bellowing roar of the Jem'Hadar became a torrent of sound as bodies swarmed into the "kill" zone set aside at the mouth of the tunnel. The SID team and the Special Forces squads operated in unison, cutting swathes through the charging hordes. The second rank of defenders was elevated in order to grant them a clear field of fire past the first rank. The combat was so fierce that powerpacks were being drained within a few minutes.

Just as swiftly as the assault had begun, it ended. Starfleet personnel throughout the room began exchanging spent powerpacks for fresh ones in case of a renewed assault. Daggit loaded the last of his grenades into the launcher's magazine and chambered a round. Radil shrugged out of her cannon's harness.

"Well that's just about spent." she remarked.

"Any juice left to the power cell?" Daggit inquired.

"A few shots left. Why? You want it?"

Daggit nodded, "It'll make a good booby trap that'll take out a half a dozen or so Jem'Hadar."

"Take it, its yours." Radil said, detaching the power cell and handing it to Daggit, "Any tactic that eliminates those ghouls gets my endorsement."

Daggit hurled the power cell out into the middle of their corpse ridden kill zone, "That should do it. Now we just need to blow it up when it's surrounded by Jem'Hadar."

"So is this what it was like during the war?"

Daggit shrugged, "For some. I was in an Angosian commando unit. We specialised in behind the lines raids. They generally involved intensive close quarters combat similar to this."

"Well, you're doing one helluva job getting us through this." Radil said softly, "I just thought you should know."

"I appreciate the sentiment but when I'm like this…" he shrugged again, "not a lot gets through."

Radil nodded, "I think I'm truly beginning to understand."

Radil paused then asked, "Do you get lonely?"

"Not when I'm fighting."

"No. At 'normal' times."

"Sometimes." he admitted.

"You never partake of female company. Do you prefer men?"

"No. Women suit me just fine. One at a time preferably."

"Then why don't you..?"

"It will take a special woman to love me. My conditioning will require exceptional patience from whoever decides to be with me. I've been down the path to romance with women unable to cope with what's been done to me. I am choosing to be a little more circumspect in my choices now."

Radil nodded, "Fair enough. Have you considered selecting from amongst your teammates?"

"It's crossed my mind." Daggit warily admitted.

"Have you considered Hannah Grace?"

"Hannah's a child." Daggit rebutted, "She's half my age. Let her cosy up to a strapping young thing of her own."

"She wants you." Radil pointed out.

"It's good to want." Daggit mused, "Hunger shapes the soul."

Radil shook her head, "I offered you a ready made out."

"And I'll pass, thank you." Daggit replied, "There'll come a day when the woman I want will finally be ready to embrace me."

"So you have cast your eye on someone. Who is she?"

"You've heard my philosophy on wanting things. How do you suppose I'll respond to this question?"

Radil blew him a raspberry.

Daggit shook his head, "You've been around T'Kir for too long."

* * *

Macen threw Arinea back, "This is finished."

She wore a hungry look as she shook her head, "This hasn't even begun. I admit you've improved since the 'good old days'. I've actually been forced into trying."

"Then maybe I should stop holding back." Macen replied and he saw hesitation in Arinea's eyes for the first time since their mad dance had begun.

"Now this I'd like to see." she clucked her tongue and shook her head, "Face facts. This match of ours is to the death. Winner take all."

"Why?" Macen asked grimly.

Arinea threw her arms in the air, "Because its _poetic_! We were married. We cared for one another. Now we can prove our love and ultimate fidelity by ushering the other one into the afterlife. Our kind has always existed slightly out of phase with this space/time continuum. Haven't you ever wondered what lays behind this plane of existence?"

"I try to deal with one reality at a time."

"How dull." Arinea frowned, "You used to be far more imaginative."

"The reality I dwell in is fairly grim." Macen remarked, "It requires all of my energies to contend with this realm of existence."

"Enough talk." Arinea drew her sword up into a ready stance, "I'm bored. Let's dance."

Macen assumed a guard position, "You do realise you're insane?"

Arinea released a tinkling laugh, "You're a fine one to talk. I accessed Section 31's records on you. Your last Starfleet psych evaluation was so butchered that you were classified as 'unfit for duty'. It took the direct intervention of a Vice Admiral to salvage your career."

"You may be an independent operative now, but those emotional scars remain. In fact I'm willing to bet that all it will require is for me to push the right button and you'd cut me down without a second thought, a trigger like your little girlfriend. She's dead y'know. Even if the Jem'Hadar leave her alive, I'll insure that her last few moments on this mortal coil are the most excruciating she's ever endured."

Macen's visage darkened while Arinea broke into a bright smile that radiated pure madness, "Her only chance is for you to kill me."

Although Macen remained loose, he was coiled and poised to strike, "Come on then. Do your worst."

With a cry born of utter despair, Arinea lunged.

* * *

Weisz sidled up next to Daggit, "I have an idea."

Daggit nodded, "Let's hear it."

"We deploy our ready reserve that's guarding the secondary entrance into this chamber. The First Daughter's guard detail can cover that position. In the interim the ready reserve can reconnoitre the adjoining chamber."

"It's a suicide mission."

"It'll be an all volunteer force." Weisz assured him, "We can't reliably plan our next move without an estimate of how many more Jem'Hadar there are in that chamber waiting to burst in here."

"Sounds reasonable." Daggit replied, "Who do you have in mind to lead this recon?"

"I will." Weisz said with steely determination.

"Good luck." was Daggit's simple reply.

As Weisz departed, Radil edged closer, "Those people are going to die."

"We're all going to die, Jenrya." Daggit pointed out, "This way, Weisz and his volunteers get to choose how they meet their end. In the process, they may just gather invaluable information and get it back to us."

Radil gave him a pitying look, "You really are a soulless bastard in a fight, aren't you?"

Daggit shrugged, "I've tried to warn you all. Macen knew. He was there with us during the war. What set him apart from our previous intelligence officer was that Macen accepted us for who and what we are. For that, I can never repay him."

"You're worried about him?"

"As much as I'm capable of." Daggit answered, "I'll kill that blonde bimbo if anything happens to him."

"I wouldn't worry." Radil advised, "Macen's a survivor. I'd feel sorry for the 'bimbo' instead."

Daggit _almost_ smiled, "I'll take that under advisement."

A sudden rustling ended their conversation. Weisz came jogging by with the entire ready reserve. They set up snipers positions at the mouth of the tunnel before the rest of the force proceeded into the tunnel.

"You think this is a mistake?"

Radil pursed her lips, "I think it'll just launch the next bloodbath."

"That's an inevitability."

"They ceased fighting in order to re-evaluate their position. We could have used these considerations to move our forces further down the tunnels."

"Maybe." Daggit conceded, "But I want to give Captain Macen an opportunity to rejoin us."

"Even at the expense of our lives?"

"He'd do the same for you, or me." Daggit said with low menace in his voice, "I won't abandon him."

"Look, I appreciate Macen's efforts on my behalf. He didn't have to give me a job after you accidentally snatched me and got me in hot water with the Orion Syndicate, but he did." Radil opined, "All I'm saying is you need to weigh the costs versus the reward. How many lives do we need to lose before you give up on him?"

Daggit gave her a cold glare, "That remains to be seen."

"Okay." she held up her hands in surrender, "Just don't let all of us die."

_We'll withdraw as soon as our position is untenable. My damned psychological conditioning will insure that. _Daggit thought but remained silent. Radil didn't need to know everything about his mangled psyche.

* * *

Arinea's blow came from overhead. Macen blocked it with his blade turned crossways. She stepped back then lunged forward and swung a blow from the shoulder. Macen had dropped his blade into a vertical "guard" position. He put his weight into the locked blades and threw her back.

Arinea spun backwards to her left. She brought her sword up for a slicing blow. Macen stepped forward and spun on his heel. As his own spin continued, his own blade arced through the air and sliced across Arinea's throat. His spin stopped and he deflected her uncompleted blow.

Arinea clutched at her ruptured throat and dropped her sword. Her knees buckled and her vision swam. Macen knelt beside her and she vainly tried to speak. He placed two fingers on her blood drained lips.

"Don't speak. Just let go. It'll be more peaceful that way." he advised.

Arinea shuddered and then collapsed to the floor. Macen pressed his hand against her forehead.

""Seek the passageway to the beyond." he urged as he closed his eyes.

The world shifted. Arinea's office was gone, replaced by lush green fields. Arinea stood before him, resplendent in a white gown. The madness was gone from her eyes. Instead they were filled with joyous wonder.

"It's so beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"This is only the beginning of your journey." Macen solemnly told her.

"What? Why?" Arinea asked and turned to grasp the presence of the wall that stretched out behind her.

"What's that?" she asked in trepidation.

"That's your first destination." Macen explained and he pointed at the gate that beckoned for her.

"How do you know? What if it's a trick?" she shrank back.

"I've stood here many times. Death was common even among the survivors of the Borg's assimilation of our world." Macen gently explained, "That is where you need to be. It is the gateway to what lays beyond."

"What does lay beyond?" Arinea whispered.

Macen shrugged, "I don't know. It has never been my time to find out so it's still a mystery to me."

"I don't know. I tried to kill you. This could all be a trick."

"If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn't have come here." Macen assured her, "If you don't proceed you'll soon fade into a type of limbo. You'll be trapped between levels of existence, unable to interact with any but the damned."

"How..?"

"I've seen it." Macen replied grimly.

"Why are you helping me?" Arinea asked with some confusion.

"This is for when we were young and in love. Our marriage wasn't perfect but it was ours." Macen divulged, "What you did during the Borg invasion, or since, doesn't change that. I'm here to honour those memories."

Arinea forced back a tear, "I don't know what to say."

"Don't speak." Macen ordered, "Just get through that gate before its too late."

Arinea hesitated, and then she kissed Macen. That done, she proceeded to the gate and tentatively reached out to it. Arinea mustered up her courage and pushed at the door. It swung wide open. She gasped and then with a last look back, passed through the entrance to the wall.

Macen refocused his attention to "this" reality. Once again, he was in Arinea's office. Her corpse lay before him. Her blood lay drying on the floor.

Macen picked up his sword and rose. He moved past the husk that had once contained Arinea Sceptre's essence and bent to retrieve that sword as well. He strode to the desk and laid the two swords on it. He picked up the isolinear chip that lay atop the desk and inserted it into the computer's receptacle. Activating the base's communication system, he accessed the contents of the disk. An image came on the desktop viewer and Macen stood by to witness what was recorded.

* * *

Weisz peered through shadows into the cavern beyond. The Jem'Hadar had posted sentries in the tunnel as well as at the mouth of their entrance. The Special Forces unit had quietly eliminated the tunnel guards. The forces positioned at the tunnel's mouth, however, were proving far more difficult.

"We can't take them out, sir." Lt. Gott whispered, "We'd draw too much attention."

Weisz idly wondered if the Bolian was familiar enough with Earth languages to realise the Terran meaning of his name, "Point taken, Mr. Gott. Have the sensor team break out their tricorders and begin taking readings."

"Aye, aye sir." with that, Gott was gone. He filtered his way down the entire formation, passing the orders from on high.

From his position, Weisz could just barely see into the cavern. Dozens of Jem'Hadar were milling about. One core group was huddled together, locked in a heated discussion. All were surprised when a large holographic image appeared.

The image dwarfed all those that surrounded it. Weisz recognised the image. It was Arinea. From the demented look in the image's eye, Weisz knew he wasn't going to like whatever this hologram had to say.

"Loyal soldiers," Arinea's voice rang out, "Gather to me and receive my final words. If you are listening to this then I am dead. Those you hunt are responsible. Kill them. Leave no survivors. Burn the corpses and…"

The transmission ended abruptly and Weisz wondered if Macen had somehow managed to intervene.

* * *

Back in Arinea's office, Macen dropped the isolinear chip in the waste receptacle. He'd expected treachery from Arinea so there was no great surprise at her final act. He retrieved the scabbards for the two swords and adjusted their belts. Slinging the swords over his back, he adjusted the belt clips so that the blades would stay in place and be readily accessible.

He withdrew his pistol from its holster and approached the door. He activated the manual release and the door slid open. Stepping through, he found a Jem'Hadar sentry to either side. Macen bent his elbow and fired at the manufactured soldier to his left. The particle blast caught the Jem'Hadar full in the chest and he went down. Macen turned to face the other sentry only to find him bringing his rifle to bear. Macen lifted his gun hand, placing the pistol at the Jem'Hadar's throat, and fired.

_Hang on,_ Macen thoughtcast to T'Kir over their telepathic rapport, _I'm coming!_


	15. Chapter 15

237

"Some hologram, huh?" Radil spat.

"Nothing I didn't expect." Daggit confided, "The only question now is how the Jem'Hadar will react."

T'Kir came and knelt beside Daggit, "Brin's alive and he's trying to rendezvous with us."

"How do you know that?" Radil asked contemptuously.

"I share a telepathic bond with him." T'Kir replied icily, "He contacted me and let me know he was safe and he was on his way."

Radil opened her mouth to reply but she was cut off by the sound of plasma bolts. Phaser pulses followed in their wake. Daggit turned to T'Kir.

"Resume your position on the second tier. We'll be needing you."

"Gotcha." with that, T'Kir was off.

"Here go again." Radil groused, "At least we know how they'll react."

"Be of good cheer and remember one thing." Daggit advised.

"What's that?" Radil asked dryly.

"Kill every motherless son of a test tube that crosses your sights." Daggit said with conviction.

* * *

Kirk rose from the command chair and stretched, "You might as well take a break, Hannah. They're not going anywhere. I'll watch your station for you."

Grace hesitated, the rose with a wan smile. She headed to the restroom and relieved herself. Afterwards she washed her hands and face. Feeling refreshed, she exited and headed for the replicators.

"Want a drink and a snack?" she asked Kirk.

"That'd be great." Kirk flashed her a brilliant smile, "I've programmed the computer to alert us if the _McLachlan_ starts to restore power. It's amazing what these systems can do."

Grace returned her smile, "That'd be T'Kir. We really don't know half of what the computer is capable of. T'Kir's restricted the truly interesting subsystems. They respond to her alone."

"Captain Macen allows this?" Kirk asked with some suspicion.

"The Captain trusts her." Grace asserted, "And remember, it's not as if he isn't sleeping with her."

"Romances confuse command prerogatives." Kirk insisted.

Grace shook her head, "I'm not going to criticise the Captain's judgement. Our arrangements work for this crew. That's all that counts."

"I still don't like it." Kirk grumbled.

"You're free to leave." Grace pointed out, "The Captain's not the only skipper looking for experienced spacers. Just like Outbound Ventures isn't the only firm looking for command officers. I'm sure you'd get an excellent recommendation for your time spent here."

Kirk rustled but subsided in the end, "I just wonder what's going to happen in the end."

"Of this mission?"

Kirk nodded, "I was brought aboard to replace Tom, only Tom's still alive. Where does that leave me?"

"You'll have a place." Grace fervently assured her, "The Captain has made a home for all of us. He brought in T'Kir, then Radil. He accepted me after my secrets were revealed. He'll make a place for you too."

"I'd like to think so." Kirk admitted, "Tom spoke of Macen's loyalty and generosity."

"We're more than crew, we're family." Grace confessed, "That wasn't easy to achieve. The Captain is the lynchpin of that family. You've been brought into the fold. You'll be taken care of. Look what he's doing for Tom."

Kirk nodded. Grace had a point. Macen could have easily written off Riker's recovery as a traditional Starfleet matter. Instead, he was down on the surface risking his own life to liberate the man she might very well love.

"Thanks Hannah." Kirk brightened, "That's helped."

Grace's lips twisted into a wry expression, "I'm glad I can help someone."

"Personal problems?" Kirk arched an eyebrow.

Grace nodded and Kirk motioned for her to approach, "Give."

"I can't."

"I just spilled my guts to you." Kirk said dryly, "The least you can do is reciprocate. If you insist, I'll make it an order."

Grace started to laugh, "I don't think that's a legal order."

"We're not part of Starfleet are we?" Kirk asked in an imperious tone, "The rules are what we make of them. Since I'm the ranking authority aboard this ship, my whim is law. Under these circumstances, I command you to share your heartbreak with me."

This time, Grace did laugh, "Okay. It all began when we were assigned to investigate the disappearance of a starship. A ruggedly handsome officer transferred aboard as our new Tactical officer. That officer's name was Rab Daggit."

"And you instantly fell in love with him." Kirk ventured.

"It was at least a healthy dose of lust." Grace admitted, "Now, I've got the worst case of being smitten that's ever been recorded."

Kirk smiled, "Somehow I doubt that."

Grace sighed forlornly, "It's all pointless anyway. He views me as a friend and confidant. I don't want to risk that relationship by divulging my feelings."

"Plus you've had enough with rejection and altered perceptions to last you a lifetime over the past few months."

Grace's mouth screwed itself up in a sour expression, "Exactly."

"Well, Little Sister, you're in a fix." Kirk observed, "You have to make a decision and it's going to be a hard one. This stagnation is smothering you. Either press forward or give up, there's no other way."

Grace released a heavy sigh, "I know. I've known all along. It's just been too painful a prospect. I hate getting rejected before I've even had a chance to fight."

"What makes you so convinced you'd be rejected?"

"You don't know how this man feels about Radil. She's all he can think about."

"Rather like you." Kirk observed dryly.

"Yes, like me." Grace grated, "It's always been the great irony of the situation. We're too much alike. We're both perfect specimens of the humanoid genotype. We both excel at warfare but find no pleasure in it. We both feel indebted to Captain Macen for taking us on and would give our lives for this crew. And we're both obsessed with out of reach people."

"Sounds like its destiny." Kirk opined.

Grace shook her head, "No. There are too many obstacles. I should just end this obsession now."

"It's your call." Kirk responded, "Just reconsider for a moment before you finalise your decision."

"All ready done." Grace said firmly, "My decision remains the same."

"Okay then," Kirk replied, "let's get those snacks you mentioned."

Grace smiled, grateful to be off the topic of her personal life. She was thankful for Kirk's interest in her. The acting 1st Officer's comments and insights had forced Grace to revisit her romantic dilemma and that visit had been productive. She'd finally faced the damage her indecision was causing her. That in turn had forced a corrective response.

Despite her sadness over the loss of her fantasy, Grace felt liberated. She readily accepted Kirk's reminder that they avail themselves of this opportunity to indulge in some nourishment and refreshments. Grace returned to her station and ate her sandwiches and drank her tea. The silence that hovered over the bridge was a comfort.

* * *

Macen turned the bend at another cross-channel tunnel. He'd availed himself of the public access files in Arinea's computers. These included maps of this facility. He'd superimposed security telemetry over the map to reveal which tunnels and chambers contained Jem'Hadar and which contained his crew and the Special Forces troops.

Macen thought he'd found a route that would lead him to the Starfleet chamber without encountering any Jem'Hadar. Now he was testing that theory. Like most of his theories, the test of it was a life or death affair. It was how he'd lived for nearly eighty years and he was well used to it by now.

* * *

Commodore Weisz was engaged in a running withdrawal. His people were putting up a good fight but they were getting slaughtered. They'd accomplished their goal. They'd discovered that there were only sixty-three Jem'Hadar left. That almost outnumbered the Special Forces and their allies by two to one but it was a definable, _defeatable_, number.

"Gott, we need to get back to the lines and report what we've found." Weisz ordered, "You report to Daggit. I'll slow these bastards down as long as I can."

"Sir!" Gott protested, "You'll die."

"I have no intention of throwing my life away. If the Jem'Hadar get it, it will be at great cost. Now go!"

Gott favoured Weisz with one last look and then he beat a hasty retreat out of the tunnel even as Weisz pressed forward towards the heart of the fighting. Having reached the "front", he began issuing orders.

"Remember your training people. We do this in a staggered formation. You are Starfleet Special Forces. You represent a long tradition of honour and excellence. If you live up to this tradition you _will_ make it out of this tunnel alive."

Weisz shouldered his pulse rifle, "Now, who's with me?"

With a collected shout, the rearguard surged forward to relieve the besieged fighters engaging the Jem'Hadar. Their appearance, and firepower, drove the Dominion designed soldiers back. Weisz used this time to reposition his weary troops further down the tunnel, where they set new firing positions. Weisz's group, meanwhile, made a slow but steady retreat, moving from one covered position to another.

The respite swiftly ended with a renewed surge of Jem'Hadar into the tunnel. Weisz and his people opened fire and began to cut the enraged enemy down. The Special Forces team withdrew by dividing their forces in half. One half would hold and fight while the other proceeded further down the tunnel.

Each loss was staggering considering that Weisz had only begun with a handful of officers. He was grimly aware of the attrition rate and how he may not have any forces by the time he passed the second firing position. In the end, it was a close margin. He had two people left alive out of six when crossed into the second team's lines of fire.

Weisz held back and joined up with the second as the survivors of his original team staggered back towards the makeshift "fortifications" he and Daggit had cobbled together. Daggit had proven himself a masterful tactician. Weisz trusted him to get the men and women under their respective commands out.

Weisz had few illusions regarding his odds of survival. In retrospect, he wasn't entirely certain his death wasn't deserved. His gambit of kidnapping the President's daughter had been ill conceived and ultimately futile. His alliance with Section 31 had proven corruptive and ultimately fatal. Those mistakes had to be amended.

"Gather up, people." Weisz shouted, "Let's make these monsters pay for every centimetre!"

His order was met with a collective cry of, "Special Forces!"

Gott emerged from the tunnel and immediately sprinted for Daggit. Crouching down beside the Angosian, Gott began to explain what had transpired thus far.

"Before this action began, Commodore Weisz determined that we were facing sixty-three enemy Jem'Hadar. When the 'order' came urging the Jem'Hadar to massacre us, the Commodore opted to retreat in such a fashion as to cause the enemy to expend the maximum amount of effort at the greatest cost for the least amount of gain."

"In other words, Weisz has embarked upon a holding action." Daggit clarified.

Gott numbly nodded, "That about sums it up."

"Then we'll have to simply be ready to capitalise on the Commodore's sacrifice." Daggit said with steely undertones.

Yet another of Weisz's team was cut down before his eyes. That left him and Krenn. Weisz decided he couldn't bear it to see that young woman die. He'd lost too many people already. As they backed out of the tunnel, supporting fire from the two snipers posted at the tunnel's mouth came pouring in.

The snipers began firing and Daggit turned and called out, "Positions!"

Stirs and rustles surrounded him as the assembled forces under his care readied their weapons and prepared themselves for the inevitable onslaught. Dedicated and experienced veterans all, none had quavered in the face of the enemy. The SID had performed above and beyond Daggit's expectations. He, alone, had previously faced the Jem'Hadar and he'd harboured some doubts as to his crewmates' abilities to cope with this challenge.

Radil, as expected, was his anchor. Her skills proving the match to the worst the Jem'Hadar could throw at the united forces. T'Kir's contributions also met expectations. She'd spent four years of her life engaged in guerrilla warfare. This battle presented nothing new to her.

Kort and Danan were actually proving to be the weak links of the unit. Kort possessed the necessary fervour but lacked the experience to amplify his contribution. Danan lacked the motivation. She found the battle reprehensible and tended to hesitate too long before claiming the life of her would be killer. It was a habit that would ultimately prove fatal.

Daggit took aim with his pistol as two figures emerged from the tunnel. They were both wounded and bloody. Not all of the blood was theirs. The first to emerge was a woman that Daggit barely recognised as one of Weisz's troops. Weisz himself followed on her heels.

They staggered towards the barricades. The two snipers, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of plasma fire directed at them, abandoned their posts and began a steady retreat towards the barricades. Plasma fire immediately cut down one of the withdrawing sharpshooters. Weisz and Krenn began to pick up speed as they reoriented themselves to the surrounding cavern.

As the first Jem'Hadar appeared at the entrance of the tunnel, phaser pulses rained down to meet them. The Special Forces sharpshooter kept himself between the enemy and his teammates. Just as Krenn made it to the first tier of barricades, the sharpshooter was killed by a flurry of plasma fire. Daggit quickly holstered his pistol and snatched up his grenade launcher.

Weisz was at the threshold of the barricades when Daggit fired off the first grenade. He instantly racked the pump and chambered his last round. This projectile joined its sibling in the tunnel's entrance. Explosive energy erupted from the grenades, lashing out at the bottled up Jem'Hadar.

Distantly, Daggit heard a cry as he swung his grenade launcher back to its place along the barricade "wall". He tore his phaser out of its holster faster than the average humanoid eye could track and fired. His first shot felled a Jem'Hadar soldier that just happened to be standing in the way of his true target. His follow up struck the powercell.

The Federation forces all had time to observe the particle beam lance the cell and knew to duck. The resultant explosion created an energy wave that decimated the tank bred troops in the cavern. Those venturing past the dead in the tunnel were slain as well. Silence followed.

Daggit turned to Radil only to find her cradling Weisz's head in her lap, "He took a plasma burst in the back. It caught his lungs. He isn't going to make it."

Weisz motioned for Daggit to kneel closer. "Get them home." he rasped.

Daggit was about to reply when the older man shuddered and blood bubbled out of his mouth, "He's done then."

"That's awfully cold." Radil accused.

Daggit graced her with a cold look, "Do we really need to revisit our earlier conversation?"

Radil blanched, "Sorry." For the first time she tasted fear from being around Daggit. She found the danger exciting, "Won't happen again."

"Yes, it will." Daggit replied sourly, "It _always_ happens again. People get fooled and they expect me to act like your typical humanoid."

Radil deemed unnecessary to reply, especially since he was right. It would happen again. At least it would until she came to terms with Daggit's condition. _What am I thinking? What about my commitment to Kort? I _have_ to at least give that a try._ she thought in bewilderment.

Radil opened her mouth to speak but the words never came out. It was just as well, she decided later, she'd had no idea what she'd been about to say. The source of her distraction caught everyone's attention.

* * *

The lock to the secondary door to the cavern suddenly exploded and the door slid swung open. Two Jem'Hadar ran inside the cavern, but they were focused on something behind them. The guard detail protecting both the First Daughter and the auxiliary entrance took aim.

It was unnecessary. The two Jem'Hadar were struck down from a scything phaser beam from the tunnel leading to the entrance. Next, Macen appeared in the doorway and ducked into the cavern. Blistering plasma bolts sizzled against the tunnel walls.

Macen pressed himself up against the rock face alongside the open door. Several Jem'Hadar crowded into the doorway, hungry for revenge for Macen's harassment. The Special Forces detail curt them down. Macen kicked the corpses back across the threshold and then swung the door shut. He adjusted the setting on his pistol and welded the door to the frame.

Seeing the assembled Special Forces guards milling about at the bottom of the stairs that led to the cavern floor, Macen holstered his phaser and vaulted over the stairway rail. He landed at the end of the second tier. Both T'Kir and Daggit were already in motion, one at a run and the other moving briskly. Macen had arrived.

T'Kir leapt into his arms, "`Bout time you got here!"

Macen squeezed her tight then released her and took a step back, "I see Rab's taken good care of you."

"And I see you've picked up souvenirs." she retorted, pointing at the swords strapped to his back.

Macen looked over his shoulder at the two handles, "Courtesy of Arinea."

"Didn't she object?"

Macen shook his head, "Not about that…or anything else."

T'Kir frowned, "That sounds rather ominous."

_Drop it, _he telepathically suggested.

_Okay, okay, _she relented. Macen's mood on the topic was dark.

"A dramatic entrance as always, sir." Daggit said as he came up alongside the pair.

"I always aim for a crowd pleaser." Macen deadpanned, then grew more serious, "How are our people?"

"Good, all things considering. Tom Riker appears to be in excellent health. Enough, anyway for him to try and usurp my command." Daggit mused, "The rest have held up far better than I expected."

"That had to hurt."

Daggit's face contorted into a wry expression, "You'll never know how much."

Macen understood Daggit's discomfort all too well. A greater portion of Daggit's ability to lead stemmed from his ability to make accurate projections of the responses of both his enemies and his crewmates. If he was unable to provide reliable analyses, then his effectiveness was severely limited. For Daggit, that was a fate worse than damnation.

Macen understood this mentality all too well. It was this mode of thought that had driven him into Starfleet. With his world effectively destroyed and his people assimilated, Macen had to facew the possibility of his own obsolescence. Starfleet, for a while, became the focus of his life. The SID, and his "fall from grace", had opened another world for Macen and he found he rather preferred it.

But now it was time to relate to that former world on its own terms, "I need to speak to Commodore Weisz. Where is he?"

"He's dead." Daggit answered without flinching.

"_Frinx_!" Macen swore, "Well, bring me his second."

"I believe he's aboard the _McLachlan_." Daggit explained.

"Bring me _someone_." Macen replied tartly, "Find the next senior officer and haul his or her ass over here."

Daggit nodded briskly, "Yes sir!"

"You're in a mood." T'Kir observed.

"I'll explain later but now really isn't the time." Macen informed her, "D'you still have that reactor wired?"

"Just give the word."

"In a minute." he warned, "First, I want you to deactivate the safety interlocks on the flow regulators. A nice steady, and unstoppable, build-up to detonation in thirty minutes would be nice."

"What if we can't escape these tunnels and beam aboard our respective ships in time?"

"Then we reach the great beyond together." Macen explained, "I've stood at its gates dozens of times. Maybe today is when I finally step through the portal."

"_Frinx_ that!" T'Kir growled, "I don't know what happened to you in that woman's office but whatever it was it was a load of _shuk_. We are _not_ going to die today. Not now, nor if I have my way, ever."

Initially, Macen angrily glared at her. Eventually, his demeanour changed to defiance. Then, having spent the force of his rage, he subsided and reflected on her words again. When concluded his musings, he nodded to her and gave her a wry grin.

"Agreed. No more talk of death."

_Or thoughts,_ she warned in his mind.

"Or thoughts." he conceded, "But you do need to get started on those programming changes to the reactor. The Jem'Hadar are going to attack again. The only variable is when."

"You make this sound so fun."

Macen ejected the spent powerpack from his phaser pistol. He removed a fresh powercell from his belt and rammed it home. He flashed a feral grin that was far more familiar than anything else since his reunion with the main group.

"Isn't meant to be fun, sweetheart, but at least it stays interesting."

T'Kir beamed, confident that whatever had shaken Macen had passed. Daggit chose this moment to arrive with Lt. Gott.

"Captain, this is Lt. Gott. He is the senior surviving officer of the Special Forces expedition to this facility."

"Well," Gott hedged, "Commander Shran is the ranking officer, but he's aboard the ship."

"Do you or do you not represent the highest ranking officer alive on the planet?" Macen demanded.

"Lt. Colms and I have the same time in grade…" Gott hesitated when he saw the murderous glare in Macen's eye, "Yessir! I represent the senior most Special Forces official on the planet."

"Then tell your men to prepare to move the First Daughter and to ignite the lamps on their rifles." Macen ordered, "In ten minutes, there will be a power failure that will kill the lights. Thirty minutes after that, the main reactor will detonate. That leaves us twenty minutes to clear these tunnels and beam off of this miserable rock. Any questions?"

Gott swallowed hard and shook his head. Macen graced him with a grim smile, "Hurry along then. Time's wasting."


	16. Chapter 16

255

The general alarm sounded across the bridge. Kirk threw her plate and mug back into the replicators. She bounded back to the command chair and hurled herself into it. The chair rocked from the impact but stayed upright, allowing her to access her sensor monitor.

"They must be motivated." Kirk said with obvious admiration, "There's only seven lifesigns aboard that ship yet they've already tried to restart the impulse reactor."

"They're the enemy," Grace protested, "how can you admire them?"

Kirk shrugged, "How can I not? They're in a piss poor tactical situation yet they refuse to give in. That kind of resolve demands respect."

"My people would call it stupidity." Grace revealed.

"Mine would build a monument to the memory of the brave souls aboard for their decision to continue on against overwhelming odds." Kirk shared, "That, I'm finding, is the wonder of the universe. There's more cultures and creeds than can be counted yet there's room for them all."

Grace silently pondered Kirk's words for a moment before asking, "So how are we going to respond to their efforts to reinitialise their reactor?"

"I'm going to lock phasers on the reactor and blow it and the engineers working on it straight to hell." Kirk replied matter of factly.

Grace was suddenly aware of the fact Kirk hailed from Iotia and not the Federation. Kirk could cold bloodedly discuss and plan the casual annihilation of another ship's crew without even blinking an eye. A similar mentality fostered in the Federation would be institutionalised. For Kirk, it was simply a matter of doing business the Iotian way.

Besides, it wasn't as though Grace's people didn't have their own well deserved reputation for ruthlessness. Of course, her time spent in the Federation had moderated her personal views but her duties to her people could still require her to act with brutal efficiency. If her kind were not so devoutly atheistic, she would have prayed daily and fervently that she'd never be called upon to betray her shipmates. Choosing between one's friends and one's kin wasn't really a choice was it?

_Although, _Grace mused, _the settlers en route to the Milky Way aren't my "family". They're representatives of my native culture. Will that distinction weigh into my considerations?_

Grace had no answers but that didn't surprise her. She'd grown used to living with confusion and accepted the fact that she would embrace this particular befuddlement until, or if, her people called. Of course, it also depended on what instructions they had for her. It made her head want to pop.

_Screw it, _she mentally groaned, _no more thinking. From now, I'm just doing my duty to my obligations and letting them sort themselves out._

* * *

"Ready?" Macen asked.

T'Kir nodded and put her finger over the activation stud on the tricorder. Macen looked around and gave the word, "Lights out…now!"

The cavern went black except for the glow of the sighting lamps on the Special Forces' pulse rifles. The SID team went for their utility belts and removed their sensor glasses. Macen and T'Kir took point and entered the "exit" tunnel. The Special Forces unit divided into two-person pairings followed suit.

The practice of pairing was momentarily halted when the First Daughter and her guard detail entered the tunnel. Kort and Danan followed on the heels of the guard detail while Daggit and Radil assumed their normal position with the rearguard. No sooner had the last Special Forces officer disappeared into the tunnel then the Jem'Hadar arrived in force.

It was an expeditionary party, solely intended to root out the enemy. They were blind in the stygian darkness but their other senses were alert and probing for trouble. There were six of them, and they were hunting for blood. It was time to give them some.

Daggit and Radil ever so quietly positioned themselves behind the barricades closest to the tunnel entrance. They each took careful aim with their phaser pistols and took a breath and held it. Radil slowly released her breath even as Daggit whispered, "Now."

They fired once, then twice, each round of fire killing a Jem'Hadar. The remaining two returned fire. A dozen more Jem'Hadar rushed out of the opposing tunnel's entrance and added their weight of fire to that of the survivor's. An inadvertent shot from one of the more enthusiastic Jem'Hadar killed one of the original scouts. Still, their response was based upon where Daggit and Radil _had_ been when they revealed themselves.

During the counter-response, Daggit and Radil crawled to the tunnel's entrance. They rose and took one last look at the scene they were leaving behind. The barricades had been broken apart and sections of it randomly placed throughout the cavern. For an enemy reduced to feeling his way along with his extremities, it was a cruel trap. Both wore sadistic smiles as they stepped into the tunnel's maw.

This tunnel curved its way through the mountain, which is how the Jem'Hadar missed the lamps of the departing Special Forces commandoes. Daggit and Radil carefully walked until they were certain they were out of hearing range of the still firing Dominion bred enforcers. Afterwards, they jogged down the tunnel, their sensor glasses granting near perfect visual acuity. As they rounded the tunnel's curve, they could hear fighting up ahead.

* * *

Phaser fire lanced out from the _Solstice's_ weapons array. The ship's Type X phasers sliced through the stricken _McLachlan's _hull. The Impulse reactor suffered a direct hit, causing a containment failure. The resultant explosion killed the entire repair party, including Commander Shran. It also opened the impulse control room to space. The _McLachlan_ was now dead in the proverbial water, life support lasting only as long as the batteries.

Becky Yeoh activated a broad band emergency hail, "We surrender! For God's sake, we surrender all ready!"

Kirk heard Yeoh's words and she smiled thinly. Her sensors indicated only two lifesigns were left aboard the _McLachlan_ and both of these were located on the bridge. _That voice sounded way too young and scared to be a senior officer so maybe we've bagged the major bad guys and are down to collecting the small fry,_ Kirk thought with satisfaction. She activated her intercom connection with Engineering.

"Hullo Chief. You got a minute?"

"That depends." he answered gruffly, "Are you done trying to shoot everything in the sector?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Kirk replied a tad stiffly, "Either way, its none of your concern. Just be prepared for both eventualities."

Dracas began cursing under his breath. Kirk heard a few colourful metaphors that made even made her upbringing on one of the meaner streets of New Chicago seem to pale by comparison.

"_Chief_," she said curtly, "I need you to go to the transporter and stand by for a set of co-ordinates."

"Anything else. Your Highness?"

"Yes." Kirk sighed. _This is so petty._ "After you've transported over the two prisoners we've taken, escort them to the brig."

"The brig?" Dracas blustered, "I'm an engineer, not a warden!"

"You need to drop them off and activate the forcefield." Kirk insisted, "Grace is busy at the helm and I'm monitoring the rest of the stations. That makes you expendable since Engineering doesn't require constant supervision."

"Only because I do watch it constantly." Dracas insisted.

"That very well may be true," Kirk allowed, "but at _this_ particular juncture, your presence is not vital during a non-combat scenario."

Dracas swore violently and Kirk waited his breathing to regulate itself. Patience paid off, "All right. I'm on my way."

"Thank you, Chief." with that said and done, Kirk hailed the _McLachlan_, "To command of the _Sarah McLachlan_, I accept your surrender and am prepared to begin transporting survivors aboard my ship."

The viewscreen shifted from its view of the crippled _Miranda_-class cruiser's aft portion to that of a young human woman. She was no more than twenty-four Earth years old and descended from what Kirk recognised from her studies of Earth as Chinese stock. Kirk had never met a person of Asian descent and was intrigued by the subtle differences in the features of the Indo-European stock. Truth be told, she found Becky Yeoh to be quite attractive. _If I were a man, I'd be a drooling idiot right now._

"Lieutenant Rebecca Yeoh, Ship's Specialist (Tactical) and acting XO. I currently command a ship's company of two, myself and Master Chief Rejule." Becky relayed with infinite sadness.

If Yeoh had sought pity, she found none' "You will stand down and prepare to be beamed aboard my ship where you will be taken as prisoners to stand trial for kidnapping and grand theft."

"Stand down what?" Yeoh replied with a tad too much hysteria in her voice, "Our entire ship has been destroyed."

"Disarm yourselves of all sidearms. Our transporter's safety protocols would deactivate your phasers, but this'll spare you a strip search.

Yeoh opened her mouth to protest such an indignity, but snapped it shut again, "We'll be unarmed."

Kirk welcomed the resignation in Yeoh's voice. It reminded her of fleecing itinerant freighters out of protection money to travel through the Iotian Starfleet's "protection zone". She'd thought that thrill to be long gone but she was beginning to realise that it could be found out here as well.

"Keep this channel open and gather together." Kirk monitored the gathering of the two surviving Special Forces personnel and updated her previous sensor reading when they met around the command chair. "Chief, here's the co-ordinates."

* * *

Macen and T'Kir had run headlong into a squad of Jem'Hadar. Fortunately, T'Kir's telepathy alerted them before they were exposed to the Jem'Hadar's plasma rifles. Unfortunately, these Jem'Hadar had found hand torches. By the time Gott and his men arrived, the Jem'Hadar troops were down and the SID pair was inserting powercells into their weapons.

"Holy _shuk,_" Gott exclaimed, "but the two of you are dangerous."

"Naaaah," T'Kir said dismissively, her head slightly canted to the left, "There were only six of them. You should see us when we get warmed up."

Weisz had shared a few of the more "interesting" details from Section 31's files on Macen and his crew. Arinea had shared the documents in response to Tom Riker's assertions that Macen _would_ come and liberate him and Arinea's corresponding unease with that thought. Gott had listened to the stories Weisz told and dismissed them as hyperbole. What he was seeing today, however, was proving he'd been wrong.

"This was only an advance unit." Macen said in resignation, "There are more in the cavern ahead. They were obviously trying to flank us by dividing their forces, deploying them down the other tunnel system, and catching us in the rear."

Gott nodded, "So it would appear."

"And now we have to charge headlong into a forewarned enemy." Macen finished explaining, "Our opposition had to have heard those shots."

Gott considered the situation for a moment and then did what Weisz would have done, "Sir, if you were stand guard over the First Daughter and assure her evacuation, then my people and I would gladly run interference."

Macen studied him, "Its suicide, you know. The reactors rigged to blow in..?"

"Twelve minutes, thirteen seconds." T'Kir supplied.

"She'll never make it past these troops without an armed contingent clearing the path to the entrance tunnel and holding the enemy back once the tunnel's been reached." Gott argued, "It has to be done. Commodore Weisz asked us to volunteer for this mission. We did and in the process created this mess. Now we can fix it."

Macen remained silent for a moment. It wasn't as though he disagreed with Gott; he was just simply tired of the bloodshed and sacrifices. _Fates, _he thought, _I'm tired of the unending bloodshed._ In the end, pragmatism won the day.

"Very well, Lieutenant. You and your people will lead the breakout assault. May the Fates have mercy on you."

* * *

"They're safely tucked away in the holding cells." Dracas' voice announced over the intercom.

"Good work Chief," Kirk replied merrily, "and thank you."

Dracas grunted and signed off.

"Well, isn't he a merry old soul?" Kirk wore a sour expression.

"The Chief's had a hard life and he's probably testing you out. He does have twice your experience." Grace suggested.

"We got along great as long as I was his helper."

"My point exactly. Dracas barely gave the Captain a chance to prove himself. Why should he be any easier on you?" Grace pointed out.

Kirk rubbed the tip of her nose, "I suppose he shouldn't. Oh, _frinx_ it, I _know _he shouldn't but it just makes the transition harder, y'know?"

Grace bit her lower lip. She _could_ tell Kirk the reason behind Dracas' façade of surliness but T'Kir had shared that titbit in confidence. Grace was a wellspring of secrets. She wasn't in the habit of divulging them, especially when it meant betraying her friend.

_Hypocrite!_ she savagely thought, _You'd betray everyone aboard at the behest of your people but you won't share one insignificant confidence for fear of injuring a trust._

Grace returned her attention to her board. Hopefully the Captain and the extraction team would be calling soon. All this waiting led to too much interaction and pondering. If she even remotely had a soul, then this was what was bad for it.

* * *

The Special Forces troops paid a heavy price as they charged into the blazing guns of the Jem'Hadar. Half their number fell before they eliminated the last engineered soldier. Less than half a dozen Special Forces personnel survived to lead the way to the laboratory chamber. The initial resistance they met there was lighter but still cost Gott five members of his platoon.

Gott turned to Macen, "You're clear, sir. Get the young lady safely home."

Macen shook his hand, "You'll be remembered."

Gott broke into a lopsided grin, "Honourably I hope."

Macen's grin matched Gott's, "I'll see what I can arrange."

Gott nodded and sobered, "Then that's all I can ask. Good luck, sir."

"To you too." Macen turned and motioned for the SID team to proceed down the entrance tunnel. Huddled between them, confused and cold in a mere nightgown, was the President daughter.

When asked what to call her, the self-possessed young lady had replied, "Skye." When it was pointed out that that wasn't her name, she merely shrugged and

replied, "You asked what I _wanted_ to be called. I prefer 'Skye' to my birth name."

Macen shrugged, "All right. Skye it is."

"Who are you?" Skye asked, "You aren't one of these Special Forces wankers."

"We're a private firm with an interest in liberating you."

Skye rolled her eyes, "The Federation is a cashless society. They won't be offering a reward."

"I'm not after a reward. Normally, I'd be here at the behest of Starfleet Intelligence's Special Investigative Division."

"You said you'd 'normally be here at Starfleet's request'. If they didn't send you, who did?"

"It's a private venture." Macen explained, "They were holding one of my crew." Riker tossed off a grin and mock salute, "It just so happened you were here as well, so we got a two-for-one deal."

"Oh." Skye looked and sounded crestfallen.

"Don't feel bad." Riker counselled, "According to my crewmates, your father dispatched entire fleets to look for you. I was written off as being expendable. If they hadn't come looking for me, I'd have died here."

Skye met his icy blue eyes with her violet ones. They shone with a glimmer of hope, however faint it was, "Thank you."

"Heads up people!" T'Kir called out, "We have three minutes left."

"Better run!" Macen suggested.

Skye proved a better sprinter than she appeared. The entire team exited the tunnel with just under two minutes to spare.

"Chief, beam us up right now!" Macen fervently requested.

"I only have six pads. Two of you will have to remain behind and be taken up in a second wave."

Macen replied with, "I'll stay behind."

"Then I'm staying too." T'Kir growled, "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

The seconds slowly ticked by and seemed to drag on forever as Dracas reset the transporter.

"Uh, Chief, we're really in a hurry." Macen informed him.

"Don't rush a master at work." Dracas scolded and activated the transporter beam. Macen and T'Kir stood by and watched their crewmates and Skye dissolve into an energy matrix. Macen turned to T'Kir.

"Any chance that we're going to survive this?"

She screwed up her face.

"Our odds are that bad, huh?"

"We'd have a better chance at achieving immaculate conception."

"So there's still hope."

T'Kir broke into a wry grin and shook her head, "You'll never surrender, will you? You'll go down fighting."

"Pretty much." Macen conceded.

"We have seventeen seconds left." T'Kir checked her padd, "Give the blast about three seconds to navigate the tunnels to here and you've given us twenty seconds remaining. Any last words?"

"Yeah." Macen grinned as he began to shimmer, "Feel that?"

Macen and T'Kir materialised in the _Solstice's_ transporter room. Dracas was monitoring his sensors, "Cut it a little close didn't we?"

Macen gave him a manic grin, "Always, Chief."

"Ready for a new problem?"

Macen's eyes grew flinty, "What?"

"Word is Riker's causing problems on the bridge. He, Kirk, and Danan are all arguing over who's in command and what to do next."

"I'm on it." Macen growled and left with T'Kir in his wake.

* * *

"For the last time," Riker almost shouted, "I'm _the_ Captain. Macen and T'Kir are aboard so break orbit and plot a least time course for home."

Grace sat unflinchingly as Kirk rallied behind her, "In the absence of _Captain_ Macen, Acting XO Danan here is in charge. Until Macen reinstates you, you have no authority on this bridge."

Riker gave her a wounded look, as if he'd been betrayed. She was sorry his feelings were hurt but protocol was protocol. Riker hadn't been part of the chain of command for almost a year now; he couldn't simply jump into the centre seat now and expect to take command. Someone needed to quell his ambitions, and if need be, she was the woman for the job.

The turbolift doors opened and Macen came onto the bridge like a force of nature, "Let's get one thing straight, _I'm _the Captain. This is my ship and my command."

In turn, Macen met the eye of each of the disputing parties to affirm they'd received the message. Tom Riker obviously had, and was upset by it.

"Tom, join me in the briefing room." Macen suggested and waited for Riker to comply.

Riker shrugged and stormed past Macen, headed for the briefing room door. Macen turned to Grace, "Execute withdrawal route Delta-9."

To Danan he said, "You stand relieved of your duties as 1st Officer."

"Thank the Pools." she murmured and headed for the turbolift.

Finally, he faced Kirk, "Well done, Jamie. You're now the ship's acting 2nd Officer."

"2nd, sir?" she asked, disappointment lacing her voice.

"Don't worry." he assured her, "I have great plans for you. I'll tell you about them later but first I have to douse Tom's ruffled feathers."

Macen entered the briefing room to find Riker leaned up against the bulkhead, fuming.

"Damn it Macen, I was hired on to this crew to be this ship's captain."

"No, Tom. You weren't" Macen rebutted, "You were hired on as the _Eclipse's_ captain. This is the _Solstice_. She's a whole other animal."

"So?" Riker couldn't fathom Macen's point.

"Your contract would've been renegotiated to rectify certain…deficiencies with our previous agreement."

"What sort of deficiencies?" Riker roared.

"When someone wishes to speak to this ship's captain or see someone representing this ship and crew," Macen explained, "That person is _me_. Even under our previous arrangement, that was true. The only difference is that our previous arrangement belittled you in the eyes of stationmasters and other ship's captains."

Macen stared Riker down, "By you agreeing to be my Exec, you avoid the confusion of murky titles _and_ you get to run the daily affairs of the ship. I'll primarily be on the bridge as an advisor. I only require the title and the ultimate authority."

Macen held out his hand, "Can you live with that?"

Riker hesitated, his mind weighing and juggling. Finally, he broke into a wry grin, "Just don't call me 'Number One'."

"Deal." With that, they shook hands. They exited the briefing room and Macen made Riker's decision public. Kirk still looked unhappy but Macen knew his plans for her would make up for this perceived slight.

"Brin!" T'Kir grabbed his attention, "We have multiple inbound bogeys."

"Talk to me. What've you got?"

"Six ships, all banging away with their active sensor arrays. They don't care who knows they're around." T'Kir reported.

Macen had the sensor feed duplicated on his monitor, "I make it out to be six Federation starships. Four _Cheyenne_-class scouts and two _Challenger_-class cruisers."

"They certainly got here fast." commented Grace.

"They were already on patrol near _DS9_ and they all possess four warp nacelles." Macen instructed, "That means they can sustain maximum warp almost indefinitely by alternating nacelle pair usage."

"I take it these were the ships you contacted when we entered the system." T'Kir remarked dryly.

Macen nodded, "They were the primaries assigned to these sectors. I also transmitted a signal to the communications relay posts located in the Bajor sector and at Starbase 375."

"I'm getting positive IDs from their transponders. They're definitely Starfleet." T'Kir announced.

"Attention _SS Solstice_, heave to and prepare to be boarded. You will not be warned again." a terse voice rang out over the bridge speakers.

"Rude like Starfleet too." T'Kir muttered darkly.

"Grace, cut engines and hold our position. Rab, hail these idiots. I want to know who I'm dealing with." Macen snapped off the orders.

"He's definitely gotten the hang of command while I was gone." Riker whispered to Kirk.

"He made do." Kirk replied, "We all did."

He met her gaze, "All these months, I've wondered about what could have become of us."

A trace of a smile began to light up her features, "There's still time to find out."

"Its not too late?"

Kirk shook her head, "Why do you think I'm here, besides the fact I was exiled from Iotia? I was looking for you to see if the promise a few days held could grow into something more."

"I know I certainly…"

"Hold that thought." she requested, "I want to hear this."

The image on the main viewer had shifted from that of six decelerating starships to one of a middle aged Starfleet captain. A captain, who by the look of things, would not brook any interference with her mission.

"This is Captain Luna Longoria, of the starship _Razorcat_. Surrender your vessel at once, or be destroyed."

Macen gave her his best ingratiating smile while he privately tried not to laugh at her name, "Captain Longoria, this measures are unnecessary. _We're _the vessel that sent out the alert on this system. We currently have Skye aboard. She's safe and sound."

Kirk whispered just loudly enough for Macen to hear before he continued, "We have two prisoners to transfer to your custody."

Longoria eyed Macen suspiciously, "I see by your ship's ID that she's the _Solstice_. That would make you Captain Macen?"

"Yes, it would." Macen warily replied, sensing trouble brewing.

"Then I am under orders to place a prize crew aboard your vessel." Longoria said with a hint of a smile, "You and your officers will be confined to quarters during the transit to Sector 001."

"Where we will facew a board of inquiry regarding our actions here." Macen finished for her, "The orders undoubtedly originated in Edward Jellico's offices. But who counter-signed it?"

"Vice Admiral Nechayev."

Macen felt gut punched. Nechayev had always been his friend and later on, mentor and sponsor within Starfleet Intelligence. This move on her part was a betrayal even deeper than that committed by Arinea. T'Kir sensed his anguish and intervened on his behalf.

"Tom, _do _something."

Riker stepped forward and conferred with Macen, "Sir, you have to take a stand. A fight would be suicide, and it would get our passengers killed."

"I notice you didn't mention anything about us." Macen broke into a half-hearted grin.

"Us?" Riker said with mock seriousness, "If any of us had wanted to stay alive, we wouldn't have signed on."

"I'll keep that in mind, XO." Macen said with a wry half smile. Refocusing his attention on the viewer, Macen laid his terms out, "I'll accept most of your conditions if you meet some of mine."

"You're dictating terms to _me_?" Longoria asked in disbelief.

"Yup." Macen confirmed, "And you'll meet them if you want this deal to go down smoothly."

Longoria hesitated then relented, "Let me hear your demands."

"My people aren't to be treated as prisoners. We haven't been arrested. The board will determine if criminal misconduct occurred and if judicial action is required." Macen explained, "We want free access to the crew's lounge and exercise room."

Longoria began to colour but remained silent as Macen continued, "Also, beam over Skye's Presidential Guard detail. She's staying aboard." Macen's hand waved away Longoria's apoplectic reply, "She's insurance that you just won't 'eliminate' the thorn in the good admiral's side once the First Daughter is no longer aboard."

"It's a sick, sad little world you live in." Longoria accused then threw her hands up, "All right, I agree. My people will start coming aboard in fifteen minutes. I'm coming over as well. I want a debriefing on how the mission to liberate…Skye went as well."

"Well, this going to be fun." Grace voiced.

"What do you think, Captain?" Riker inquired.

Macen's gaze swept the bridge area, "I think we're in trouble."


	17. Chapter 17

16

Brin Macen stood before the Council of Five, feeling railroaded. _Whatever a railroad is_, he miserably thought, _Maybe it was similar to a maglev train_. It was fascinating how expressions lingered on in language even when the referenced object had long since faded into obscurity. _Fascinating at any moment except this one_, Macen thought as he listened to Jellico drone on about how Macen had, in a single-handed coup, nearly caused Skye's death. Of course, Jellico also had too large a bug up his butt to use Skye's preferred nickname.

"…and furthermore Commander Macen…" Jellico ranted.

"That's _Captain_ Macen." Macen interrupted, "I am the owner, operator and commanding officer of the _SS Solstice_. By Spacing Guild guidelines, that makes me a 'Captain'."

"Your proper _Starfleet _rank is that of Commander. You shall therefore be addressed as such." Jellico blustered.

"I'm not even _in_ Starfleet, you idiot. I could demand to be referred to as 'Admiral' and you'd politely have to comply."

Drake and Nechayev winced as Jellico's eyes narrowed to slits, "No…you're no longer part of Starfleet, are you? And that is the true problem isn't it?"

"Thank you…Captain Macen. The Council will deliberate and then make its decision known to you." Bill Ross spoke up, "Since you're restricted from leaving the planet, I suggest you await word of our decisions in Admiral Drake's offices."

As soon as the doors closed behind Macen, fierce debates broke out. Admirals Ross and Marrine tried to moderate their fellow officers, to no avail. The various issues that lay before them were marched out, one by one, and given a new hearing. In the end, the bickering only ceased when Ross and Marrine called for a vote. Once again the balance lay in the swing vote, only this time that vote swung the other way.

Macen and the other contract agents were out. The SID would have to learn how to rely upon a homogenous Starfleet force. Now came the hardest part of the process: telling the various CO's and crews that their loyal services were no longer required. To top it off, Drake would have to start the process with most productive, but least predictable, contractor.

* * *

Nechayev accompanied Drake back to the junior officer's office. Macen sat in Ambril Delori's office, awaiting entrance to Drake's workspace. Drake sat Macen down and offered the usual refreshments. After the social niceties had been observed, Drake informed Macen of the Council's decision.

"What d'you mean 'I'm fired'?" Macen inquired in a voice that could chill a comet.

"All the freelance contractors are being let go of, Brin." Nechayev intervened, "In a way, this is a direct result of your actions as an independent operative. Jellico used one example after another of your supposed 'excesses'."

"What a load of…"

"We know." Drake assured him, "God knows I wish that this had gone the other way. As a small matter of compensation, all of 'you' contract captains and ships get to retain their letters of marque."

Macen could sense Drake's inner turmoil as she continued, "You've built Outbound Ventures into more than just a cover. Why not make a go of it as a 'security consultant' full time?"

"I guess I'm going to have to." Macen replied sourly.

"Brin," Nechayev spoke, "Starfleet Intelligence is still open to hiring freelancers."

"And your point is?"

"The rules are looser and the jobs are riskier but I could arrange for an assignment here and there."

"I wouldn't want to be a bother." Macen said in a snarky tone.

"It wouldn't be a bother." Nechayev replied levelly, "I'd be gaining a great asset."

"No, thank you." Macen decided, "We'll make it on our own."

"Brin?" Nechayev asked in surprise.

"You shouldn't have counter-signed the detention order, Alynna." Macen's voice was devoid of emotion.

_Oh Hell,_ she thought worriedly, "Brin, I had to do it. If I'd refused, it would have seemed as though Amanda or I had ordered you to proceed with the rescue attempt."

"You did the next best thing." Macen's growled, "You knew the moment you mentioned Tom Riker's name that I'd be committed to a rescue mission."

"In the end, the choice was still yours." Drake argued, "Neither Admiral Nechayev or I…"

"Spare me the usual bullshit." Macen warned in a menacing tone, "I've been steeped in plausible deniability and its permutations for eighty years. For Fates' sake, let's _once_ call an apple an apple."

Nechayev folded her hands in her lap and levelly met Macen's burning gaze, "You're right. We did use you."

"Alynna!" Drake protested.

Nechayev held up a hand to restrain her, "Although the SID had been granted the primary responsibility in locating Ms…Skye, we felt uncertain of even our odds of success without the involvement of you and your crew. When you refused to accept the assignment, we fell back on our contingency plan: Tom Riker's resurrection. With you acting as an independent 'cowboy' we could pursue more traditional routes of investigation while primarily relying upon you to find…Skye."

"Well, I did and you threw the entire book at me," Macen's eyes glinted, "and you still couldn't make anything stick. The Board of Inquiry exonerated us of any wrongdoing."

Nechayev shook her head sadly, "That outcome was predetermined before it began. One can't crucify the President's new darlings. Your real trial was before the Council of Five. You lost that battle. We all did."

Silence lingered for a moment before Drake spoke, "Brin, if there's ever anything we can do…"

Macen nodded, "It's appreciated but I'm fairly certain we can manage on our own."

"We've managed to secure you your usual fee for the job. At the President's insistence, it's been tripled."

A wry grin spread across Macen's features, "At least someone values a job well done."

"Brin, I'm so sorry." Nechayev practically gushed, "For everything."

"So am I." Macen confessed, rose and left the room.

"I've never seen you get so emotional before." Drake confessed.

"I've been friends with that man for almost half a century," Nechayev said huskily, "and I've betrayed him for operational security concerns. What kind of monster does that make me?"

"The kind that accomplishes the mission." Drake argued.

"True. But in the end, where does that leave me? Am I blessed or am I damned?"

Drake had no answers for those questions.

* * *

"…and that's the situation." Macen finished relaying the tale of his meeting with Admirals Drake and Nechayev.

"So what happens next?" Dracas asked.

"Quite frankly, I'm taking Amanda Drake's suggestion and I'm running with it. I'd already been thinking of expanding Outbound Venture's operations. Now is the perfect opportunity to do that."

"How?" Riker asked.

"Drake's firing more than a dozen freelance contractors. I'm certain we can recruit some of these disaffected crews to work alongside us." Macen explained and then moved over to where Kirk was sitting in the _Solstice's _briefing room, "In addition, I'd like to introduce the newest Outbound Ventures commander, Captain Jamie Kirk."

Kirk glanced over towards Riker, whose jaw opened and closed at this announcement, "Me, sir? But what would I command?"

Macen grinned, "Before we set out on our little rescue mission, I put in a bid on a decommissioned _Newton_-class surveyor. All the other captains I plan on contacting have their own ships. This one doesn't have a captain and I think you'd be perfect for the job."

Riker was visibly shaken but he remained silent as Macen continued, "The choice now facing each and every one of you is whether or not you'll remain part of this crew. I would love to have all of you stay but if any, or all, of you choose this moment to start a new life separate from Outbound Ventures and this ship, I'll understand and support your decision."

"I won't be soliciting your choice until we reach Barrinor. Until then, you're all dismissed." Macen said then added, "Tom, can I talk with you?"

Riker stiffened but remained behind as the others departed. Macen took his usual seat at the head of the table, "You're upset that I've a command to Jamie while I'm saddling you with the onerous title of 'Executive Officer'."

Riker started to deny it but in the end he merely shrugged. Macen smiled, "Good move. It's never smart to lie to a telepath or an empath, no matter how weak their abilities are."

"I just can't understand why you did it!" Riker finally burst forth, "I have twice the experience she has."

"With the crew, yes." Macen agreed, "But in overall experience, she actually edges you out. That's all beside the point. I respect Jamie but I don't feel comfortable with her as my 1st Officer. I need the best and you're it. The _Solstice_ will be the Outbound Venture's flagship and will be receiving the most challenging assignments as a consequence. As my XO, you'll be in effective command. Which do you prefer, a title your ambitions despise or convoy duty?"

Riker considered the matter for a minute then replied, "As long as I get my own command someday."

Macen nodded, "It'll happen sooner than you expect."

"Then I'm staying." Riker announced, "And _that _is my final decision regarding the subject.

They shook hands and then Riker exited the room to begin preparations for departure. A moment later, the door chime sounded.

"C'mon in, T'Kir."

The door slid open and T'Kir wore a bemused expression, "How'd y'know? I dampened our rapport enough to 'disguise' myself."

"Because I know you, m'love." Macen grinned, "You're the only one, barring Tom Riker, who'd have enough wherewithal to knock on that door in light of the news I just delivered."

"Yeah," T'Kir said proudly, "I am gutsy."

"Rab referred to you as 'plucky'."

T'Kir scowled, "I _prefer_ 'gutsy'."

She moved to his position and lowered herself to straddling him, "So, how long are you gonna be holed up in here?"

"Is that why they sent you?" Macen said, referring to the crew.

"That among other things." T'Kir confessed, "_I_ was worried about you. Nechayev's betrayal of trust has hit you harder than battling your wife…"

"Ex-wife." Macen asserted.

"_Ex_-wife to the death. That makes a very powerful statement."

"I really don't see how deep of an impact…"

"Brin," T'Kir scolded, "I generally can't read thoughts you don't want to share with me, but today I 'heard' you turn down Nechayev's job offer."

Macen grimaced, "It was a bogus offer."

"She was trying to make amends." T'Kir pointed out, "Just like you were trying to punish her by turning the offer down."

"Where is this leading us?" Macen asked, a tad testily.

"Just seeing where your head is." she explained, "Are you serious about going solo or is this simply a matter of revenge? Because if you're not completely committed to building up Outbound Ventures, Inc. it will fail."

Macen's eyes met hers and held them tightly, "I'm committed T'Kir, as committed as I've ever been to anything in my life."

"You're sure?" there was hope in her voice.

He nodded, "I know you've looked forward to this moment for a long time. It just hit me a little sooner than I expected. We'll make it work, you and I.

"Us?" she asked with some confusion.

"I plan on incorporating you as my corporate partner."

"That's so…romantic." T'Kir's disappointment was evident.

"This has nothing to do with our relationship." Macen informed her, "This has to do with trust. I trust you to carry on what I've started in case anything should happen to me."

"Y'do realise that I'll probably die right beside you." T'Kir retorted dryly.

Macen grinned, "There's always the freak chance that you won't."

"Yeah, like that'll happen." she rolled her eyes, "If it does turn out that way, I'll just as soon take a phaser to my head and depress the firing stud."

Macen roughly took hold of her arms, "Don't ever say that! If one of us survives the other, it's our duty to each other to carry on, living out the hopes that we had for each other."

"Ease up, will ya?" she saw the intensity in his eyes and lolled her head to one side, "Okay already. I'll try…but no promises."

Macen let go, "As long as you try."

"Why're you so bloody intense about this?"

"Because I want to share my life with you, not my death." Macen shared.

"You want t'share your life with me?" T'Kir asked, her throat constricting with emotion.

Macen nodded, his previous intensity remained but none of his manic fervour, "I want to give you the best the galaxy has to offer. I want to see sights undreamt of with you. I want to share the passing of days and of years with you. I want to grow old at your side. Most of all, I want to share every facet of myself with you and explore the depths of you in return."

"Are," T'Kir choked, "are you asking me to marry you?"

Macen considered the thought for a moment, then firmly nodded, "I guess I am. Wait, there's no guessing, I am. Is this too sudden? D'you need time to think about it?"

T'Kir shook her head so fast it looked as though it would fly off, "No. I have an answer. Always best to shoot from your hip, eh?"

Macen waited but no reply was forthcoming. Finally, he prompted her, "I don't want to rush you, especially since your expression is so frozen I could refrigerate nitrogen with it, but could you answer my question."

T'Kir's face was still a stoic mask when she next spoke, "And you said you were prepared to give me time."

"T'Kir," Macen reprimanded, "I'm feeling a little more emotionally exposed than I normally feel comfortable with, but I stuck it all out on the line as part of my sharing all facets. Considering that, and the fact you said you had a response, could you tell me what it is?"

"I'm thinking." she replied diffidently.

"T'Kir!" his tone was almost pleading.

"Considering your pains…and a thousand other things," T'Kir broke into a radiant smile that made her glow, "I say 'Yes'!"

Macen drew her in closer and they embraced in a long, passion filled kiss.

"D'you want to lock the door and do it on the table?" T'Kir teased.

"You're hopeless." he laughed.

"Hey, we survived a fight." she protested, "I'm ready to get it on."

"Control yourself, and you'll get a surprise later."

"As good as this one?"

"'Good' is such a relative term."

"Yum!" T'Kir exclaimed gleefully.

* * *

The trip to Barrinor was accomplished without incident. The crew, with the exception of Danan, reacted joyfully to Macen and T'Kir's news. The couple had decided to compromise between the Vulcan custom of a seven-year courtship and the El-Aurian tendency towards engagements of a year or less. They'd settled on a three period to get their mutual affairs in order.

After arriving on Barrinor, Macen set about contacting the other displaced captains recently discharged from the SID's service. Five agreed to join Outbound Ventures as contracted owner-operators. The rest went their separate ways.

During this time, the decommissioned _Newton_-class hull arrived. Macen took T'Kir, Dracas, and Kirk aboard her to inspect her. After two days, they'd compiled a wish list of upgrades and modifications. Macen obtained several quotes from various shipyards. Now it was simply a matter of assembling a skeleton crew to pilot the ship to the yards. Kirk was given a ship's expense account and a budget and sent out to the various guilds, and Macen's Maquis contacts, to recruit a ship's complement.

As this occurred, the crew used their final days to decide their fate. To no great surprise, all stayed. All except one. Chief Hal Dracas tendered a leave of absence and announced his intention to take an extended sabbatical. No one protested but there was a general sense of disappointment and for some, a little envy.

Macen met with Dracas as the engineer was preparing to depart. He'd agreed to loan Dracas the _Waverider_-class shuttle they'd captured off of the _Slipstream_. The meeting was at Dracas' request and Macen didn't know what to expect. He did, however, have strong suspicions.

Dracas stuffed his last shirt into his duffel, "Hello Captain. Right on time, I see."

"Never saw much point in being late." Macen shrugged.

"Neither have I." Dracas waved Macen towards a chair. Dracas took the adjoining chair and swivelled it to face Macen, "Probably why we've got on over the last two years."

"That, and one or two other reasons." Macen wore a half smile.

Dracas sighed and leaned forward, "Thank you for keeping my secret. T'Kir says you know about my _preferences_."

Macen nodded, "It's been obvious for some time now."

"May I ask how?"

"It was when we were in the gladiatorial pits on Magna Roma." Macen revealed, "You were a little too clever in pointing out that you hadn't slept with any of the _women_ the Romans sent your way. Put that together with the fact you'd always seemed slightly smitten with Rab."

Dracas buried his face in his hands, "Gods, no! He doesn't know does he?"

Macen shook his head, "Doesn't have a clue, doesn't want one, and wouldn't care if he had one. You've been careful to conceal your sexual tastes. You've met dates far away from the types of establishments preferred by your crewmates. You've spent an enormous amount of time and effort to conceal what is an integral part of yourself."

"D'you think you'll be condemned for your choices in lovers?" Macen asked, "Take hope from T'Kir and I's example. I broke her out of an insane asylum in order to recruit her for my crew. Shortly thereafter, I started dating her. Now we're getting married. Does that sound 'normal'?"

Dracas shook his head.

"That's the part T'Kir and I can't understand, Hal. No one will condemn you if you reveal the 'real' you."

"That's what Lees said."

"She can, on occasion, be a very wise woman." Macen's lopsided grin returned, "You should heed her advice."

Dracas let out a deep sigh, "Maybe when I get back. Right now I just need to find a place to find myself and reflect."

"You want to reflect?" Macen asked, "I have just the place for you."

"Where is it?" Dracas perked up.

"I legally can't tell you, but I can program into your navigation computer." Macen grinned impishly, "It's amazing what they leave out of laws. Anyway, it's a little planet located in a cosmic hotspot known as the Briar Patch. Located near its heart is a quaint little world settled by a people known as the Baku. I visited the world about fifty years ago. The locals have mastered the art of serenity."

"Now, I could use that." Dracas wistfully sighed.

"They're a little reclusive but mention my name and say I sent you and they should embrace you."

"Will they remember you?"

Macen's smile radiated mischief in its purest form, "They have long memories. Trust me, they'll remember me. And there's a side benefit."

"What's that?" Dracas asked dubiously.

"You'll feel like you've peeled away years of your life just for visiting."

Dracas wasn't sure how to respond to that statement so he ignored it, "Well, I should be off, sir."

"I'll see you off and program those co-ordinates while I'm at it."

Dracas smiled, "Thank you."

* * *

Macen sat on the towel laid out behind him. Barrinor's beaches were majestic and with a planetary population still under 1,000,000, it was still possible to find a nice private stretch of glistening sand. Nearby Macen's position were volcanic rocks and tide pools.

Macen adjusted his sunglasses, low tech versions of the crew's sensor glasses, and resumed meditating to the rhythm of the crashing surf. Macen wore a hooded sweatshirt and loose natural fibre pants. The legs of the pants were rolled up to accommodate his surf faring ventures. A pair of Roman sandals sat by his feet.

Dracas was gone, the ship and crew were cut off from Starfleet and its steady, fat, juicy contracts. He still had access to Starfleet owing to his status as a reserve officer. But he wasn't at the forefront of the action anymore. Although he had the emotional scars to show it, he'd spent eighty years on the front lines. He wasn't certain he knew any other life at this point.

"Brin," T'Kir reprimanded and rose from lying on her stomach by propping herself up on her elbows, "you're brooding again."

Macen protested, "I'm reflecting a bit, but I'm not brooding."

T'Kir sighed, "Never lie to a telepath, Brin. I'm catching those surface thoughts through our rapport. We're here to relax. Knock it off."

"How about exploring those rock formations and seeing the tide pools?" he suggested hopefully, _Anything but these damned waves._

"All right." T'Kir pushed herself up onto her knees. She retrieved her sun wrap from her shoulder bag and tied it around her waist. She wore her hair loose for a change and the ocean breezes tossed it about her head. She abstained from wearing eyewear since genetics had blessed her with natural "sunglasses" in the form of a second, transparent eyelid.

Macen put on his sandals and they were off. As they explored the rock formations, Macen held out a steadying arm from T'Kir and remarked, "I'm surprised how smoothly you seem to be adapting to all of the changes."

She shrugged, "I wanted some of them. I hoped and waited for one of them." she smiled coyly at that, "As for the rest, at the risk of sounding mushy, I'll get by as long as I'm with you."

"No pressure that." Macen retorted glibly.

She laughed lightly, "It shouldn't be. Just you being you makes me feel more secure. Nothing else is required."

"T'Kir," Macen protested, "Honey, I'm a mess."

She laughed, "And I'm not? Who's the one that was in the nuthouse and is heavily medicated?"

"I know, but…"

T'Kir placed her forefinger on his lips, "Shhhh. All I know is this: we're good for one another. Good enough in fact that we should make it a permanent arrangement."

Macen noticed she'd guided them back to their beach blanket, "Hey! We never saw the tide pools."

T'Kir unstrapped her sandals and kicked them off. Next she removed her wrap and set it aside. Finally, she peeled out of her swimsuit and stood naked before him.

"You have a choice: visit the tide pools or make love to me. Simple?'

Macen pulled off his sweatshirt, "Simplest decision I've ever made."

_The story continues…_


End file.
